AN: Most of this came out of nowhere. I own nothing at all.

Just Making Sure Our World Is Still Turning

Kurt Hummel walks into the living room on the last day of class before Spring Break to find Rachel sitting on the couch staring at the wall intently.

He exchanges glances with Santana, who's in the kitchen. She shrugs.

Kurt sets his messenger bag on the table and carefully sits next to her. "Rachel, honey, is something wrong?"

She turns to him. There's an intense look in her eyes that gives him pause. "Yes, Kurt, there is. I need to apologize to you."

A million visions of horrifying possibilities are engendered in Kurt's mind by this statement. " . . . Yes?"

"I'm terribly sorry for what I said to you when you wanted to join the Adam's Apples. Considering our humble beginnings and our history as underdogs and members of the Glee club – I should have encouraged you. Maybe joined with you to support you. Please forgive me?"

She peers at him earnestly.

Kurt stares at her, taken aback. This was not even anywhere close to what he had been expecting. "Um . . . Of course."

Rachel smiles brilliantly. "Thank you, Kurt. You know, I think I've been distracted by Brody and, and the Winter Showcase and everything – I need to get back to my roots. Back to when we were fighting every day for acceptance, and the choir room was our only sanctuary. I've been talking to Sam, and, well - I have some things I need to do!"

She leaps from the couch and grabs her bag, running for the door.

Kurt and Santana, standing in the doorway, stare in the direction their roommate had just disappeared.

"Did she do this in high school too?" Santana asks.

Kurt rests his head in his hands. "Oh, yes. Every couple of weeks."

Santana's lips twitch. "My doctor is crazy. That girl needs psych meds way more than I do. I want to watch Game of Thrones, I heard that blonde dragon chick is totally foxy. You aren't going to watch any of your gay exercise videos are you?"

Kurt glares at her. "I do watch actual TV, you know, Santana. And yes, I wouldn't mind watching Game of Thrones. Renly is stunningly hot."

Santana beams and pats his head. "Good boy, Kurtie. I knew I made a good choice in roomies."

"You mean slaves? Because I'm not taking the trash out again today. It's your turn."

"Fine, fine."

Quinn Fabray taps her foot in time with the beat of her new musical obsession, Allen Stone, as she waits for the train to finish its journey from New Haven to Hartford International Airport, where a flight to Cleveland is waiting for her. Sunlight streams through the slightly grimy windows of the train; she peers out at the countryside as it races past.

Strangely, it feels good to know she's going back to Lima. Maybe because it'll be a nice break from the study all day, party all night mentality of the college, and maybe because she'll get to see some of her old friends.

It's occurred to her several times already that she really hasn't managed to create any meaningful relationships here in Connecticut. Not like in Glee Club, certainly. She has her roommates, and sure, she kind of lucked out in that area, she's willing to admit. They're all nice and helpful, they don't party too much or bring guys home. But it's not the same. She's looking forward to being with people who can read every little emotion on her face without her having to say anything.

Her phone lights up in her hand; she glances at it. A paragraph length text from Brittany informs her that the blonde dancer is very much looking forward to her return to Ohio, and that the entire old Glee Club will absolutely have to hang out and party, and that Quinn is very supermegafoxyawesomehot, if she isn't aware.

Quinn smiles and texts her back, then leans back and sighs. The world continues to fly past her.

She wonders when it happened. What happened. She's always loved Brittany, and, well, Santana too. Most of the time. But she feels excited to see Rachel too, and Sam and Tina and Mercedes and Blaine. Her old life, the one that had ended in her bedroom one evening in the company of a few wine coolers and Noah Puckerman, was – in hindsight – the most terrible part of her life (And it had been most of it!). Not when she had been pregnant, or when she had gone crazy with the pink hair and the smoking, or when she had been in a wheelchair.

Quinn had never been lonely in those times.

She shakes her head free of these maudlin thoughts, glancing out the window again. It's still cold in Connecticut this time of year, but the sky is cloudless and a wonderful shade of blue. She's always felt happier on sunny days, for some reason.

Abruptly her phone begins vibrating in her pocket. She pulls it out and glances at the screen. The words 'Incoming Call' are accompanied by the face of the person calling, a face that makes Quinn smile. She presses the green button and holds it to her ear.

"Hello?" she says, feeling some part of her world reconnect.

Blaine Anderson taps his fingers on the table next to his bed, frowning.

This isn't something he usually does. Blaine is rarely nervous, and almost never visibly so. But it's been a while since he got to have a night like this.

He'll be quite honest (well, with you, dear reader): he may not have been totally straightforward during Guilty Pleasures week. Sure, he has a bit of a crush on Sam. Who doesn't? The boy has fantastic biceps. And those impressions – well.

But the point is – there is another side of Blaine that he still keeps hidden, from everyone except a few certain individuals. Artie had been the first – the boy had made some offhand comment about Battlestar Galactica that had made Blaine chuckle without realizing it, and the guitar-playing boy was much too astute to miss it. That circle had widened slightly at Artie's prompting; growing to include Mike Chang, who never said anything anyway, Lauren Zizes, who hid her passion behind her terrifying reputation of utterly destroying anyone who questioned her (Blaine lived in fear of the day that Sue Sylvester woke up and realized that McKinley's only female wrestler was the one person in the school who struck more terror in the hearts of the student population than she did), and Finn, who had never quite caught on that their little meetings were supposed to be a secret, and so therefore there had never been any real danger of Kurt finding out.

Blaine Anderson, lead singer of the Warblers and The New Directions, the most dapper Gentleman in Ohio (and possibly the Midwest), is a closet Nerd. With a capital N.

Literally a closet nerd, because that's where he keeps his PS3, his Final Fantasy games, his Forgotten Realms novels, his autographed (by Robert Jordan and Brandon Sanderson!) Wheel Of Time poster, and his Firefly DVDs.

And his D & D materials, which is the reason that in a few moments, under cover of darkness, Artie, Lauren, Becky, Tina, and maybe Finn – Blaine has no idea where the man disappeared to – will arrive. Soon the Anderson living room, empty because of his sisters' gym meet in Canton, will echo with the sounds of rolling dice, pencil scribbling on paper, and the howls of the victorious and the cries of the defeated.

Blaine loves these nights. It's unbelievably relaxing.

Soon headlights illuminate the façade of the Anderson home, and Artie rolls in, followed by Tina, who smiles at him. Becky shows up next, cloaked, as always, in her cheerios uniform. Lauren shows up a few minutes later, carrying most of the maps and other equipment, and a half hour after six, Finn appears in the doorway, looking tired but carrying a large bag of Chinese take-out to abrogate his lateness. The group cheers him (they were hungry) and get him a place.

As the dice rattle on the table, and Blaine takes a bite of sweet-and-sour pork, he feels his world continue to turn, and he smiles.

Ryder Flynn stands in front of the Vans store at the mall between Lima and the neighboring town, Dalton. He keeps looking around for her.

It had gotten to the point where he had actually almost stopped talking to her. I mean, shy much? He wasn't quite sure, really, according to her profile pictures, she was very, very attractive – hot, even. Like as hot as that older girl, Santana, or, well, Marley. Maybe some boyfriend of hers, in the past, had been a dick to her, so she was kind of scared of guys? Or her parents were really strict?

He doesn't know. But last week, she finally agreed to meet him, which is a fucking relief, because he's pretty sure he's kind of in love with her. Which is a bit sad, really. Jake would make fun of him if he knew. Not much, but still.

He makes himself study the window displays of skate shoes and t-shirts. His heart is actually pounding. Get a grip, man, he thinks to himself. This is pathetic. She's going to think you're an idiot. Or worse.

Then someone taps him on the shoulder, and he turns.

It's a girl, but not the one he's looking for. This one is still incredibly cute though, with bright, earnest blue eyes, dark hair, and a seriously nice body, even if she's a bit short.

"Hello," she says brightly, holding her hand out. "I'm Harmony."

Mystified, Ryder shakes her hand. It's like she shocks him when their skin touches.

"I'm Ryder," he says.

"I know," she returns cheerfully. "Waiting for someone?"

"Yeah, I am," Ryder says, frowning. "What do you mean, you know?"

A thought strikes him. "Are you a friend of Katie's?"

"No, not really," the girl says. "Actually, I'm afraid no one is. She doesn't exist," she adds in a stage whisper.

Ryder stares down at her, not sure his brain is working. Is he dreaming? "But I –"

"Have been talking to a girl online for a few weeks? A really pretty girl who likes seeing pictures of you without your shirt on?"

"Well – "

"Well, you were actually talking to me."

Ryder puts his hands to his temples. "Why?"

"Because," Harmony says lazily, inspecting her nails, "We've studied you. You're obviously the weak link."

He swallows. "Are you an alien?"

"Are you an idiot? No, I'm not an alien. I meant in the New Directions."

Ryder narrows his eyes. "Wait a minute. Are you from another Glee club? Is that what this is about? Because this is a really shitty way to ask me to join you."

Harmony sighs. "We aren't asking you to join us. We're trying to make you go crazy. Silly."

She looks at him intensely. "Regionals are coming, Ryder Flynn. The new Directions crushed us last year, it's true. I'll be the first to admit it. But we're much better this year. You don't stand a chance. Which is sort of why I asked a few friends of mine to help you out in realizing this."

Ryder abruptly becomes aware that they have an audience. Several small groups of teenagers are orbiting the two of them, standing discreetly around shops, stands, and benches. He wonders if they're going to beat him up right here in the middle of the mall. He's seen movies about this.

As if reading his body language, Harmony snorts. "Don't be silly, we aren't going to hurt you."

She smiles at him devilishly, and against all logic Ryder feels his heart skip a beat. She stands on her tiptoes, putting a hand on his chest and whispering in his ear, "Physically, at least."

She steps away before he can push her away. She smirks. "I bet I know what you're thinking."

Ryder glares at her. "Oh yeah? What's that?"

She steps close to him again. "What's wrong with me?" she says softly, her breath warm against his skin. Her lips brush his earlobe. "Why do I feel like this? I'm going crazy now . . ."

Too late, he realizes what's about to happen. Blame Jake for making him a (covert) Rihanna fan.

Music fills the mall's concourse, making everyone look up in surprise, except him and the gorgeous girl, and her friends. Harmony smiles brilliantly as her teammates form up behind her.

No more gas in the rig
Can't even get it started
Nothing heard, nothing said
Can't even speak about it
Out my life, out my head
Don't wanna think about it
Feels like I'm going insane
Yeah

She's also, Ryder thinks with a sigh, an incredible dancer. Not as good as Brittany, but still excellent. He's spent enough time around Jake to be able to tell. And because it's a Rihanna song, the moves are definitely not PG. he stops himself from shaking his head in amazement as she slides nearer to him, arching her back. Hot damn.

It's a thief in the night
To come and grab you
It can creep up inside you
And consume you
A disease of the mind
It can control you
It's too close for comfort

Throw on your brake lights
We're in the city of wonder
Ain't gonna play nice
Watch out, you might just go under
Better think twice
Your train of thought will be altered
So if you must falter be wise

Ryder starts feeling really, really worried as they enter the chorus. He can't tell how long they've been practicing this, but unless they've been working on it for like two years, the Glee club is in serious trouble. Their singing and dancing are both amazing.

Your mind is in disturbia
It's like the darkness is the light
Disturbia
Am I scaring you tonight?
Disturbia
Ain't used to what you like
Disturbia
Disturbia

Harmony finishes the song, flushed and panting, and somehow still smirking at him, and he curses himself when he realizes that he's been looking at her the entire time.

They leave without saying anything to him, the mall people applauding confusedly. He watches her as they exit, his eyes leaving Harmony's very nice butt to catch her final sneer as the door closes.

He sighs, lost. It feels like his world is turning backwards now.

Harmony allows her smirk to fall away as the doors close. Her teammates pay no attention to her as she forces down the slight, almost unrecognizable feeling of remorse deep within her. The way he'd looked at her . . . !

All of this, she tells herself sternly, will make a great chapter in her memoirs someday.

She continues on, unaware that her world hasn't yet started to turn.

The sun rises slowly over Lima, Ohio.

The temperature slowly rises; the white frost that clings to grass and weeds and ices over puddles begins to melt. The few clouds in the sky travel leisurely westward.

A bird swoops low over a field, pecking at some insects among the weeds, then takes flight again.

A rooster crows in the distance.

And the sounds of Coldplay fill the bedroom of an eighteen year-old student of McKinley High School.

Artie Abrams eyes snap open as the keyboard riff of 'Speed of Sound' begins to echo off his bedroom walls. He gropes blindly for the alarm clock, then smacks it. The music doesn't turn off, but diminishes in volume. He finds his glasses and puts them on, propping himself up on his elbows. As he does, his arm brushes warm skin on a smooth, unblemished back, and he grins as he remembers the circumstances of that back being in his bed.

"Morning," he says softly, and the other occupant of the bedrolls over and glances at him sleepily.

"Good morning," she murmurs, glancing at the glowing digits on the alarm clock's façade. "Do you really have to get up so early?"

"'Fraid so," Artie says apologetically. "It takes me a little longer to take shower and stuff. And if I don't make breakfast for Allie, she'll probably starve."

"She's thirteen!"

"Yeah, but she's too busy picking fights, playing baseball and videogames to learn how to do kitchen stuff."

"Your sister cracks me up."

Artie chuckles. "She's not so bad. She's getting really annoying lately though."

"Why?"

"She's discovering that boys are good for more than beating up or passing the football to her."

Quinn Fabray winces in commiseration. "Oh. I feel for you."

"Yeah you do."

Quinn snorts with laughter and smacks his arm. "Shut up."

Artie makes sure his chair is sitting by the side of the bed, then throws the blankets off of him and transfers himself with practiced ease. Quinn watches. "I never really got the hang of that."

Artie shrugs. "What can I say? I've got skills."

"You also have muscles too, apparently," she murmurs, in a way that makes him want to toss himself right back into bed.

He blushes slightly. "That . . . may sort of be Sam's doing. Did you ever see the Titans Calendar thing a few months ago?"

The blonde's lip twitches. "I did, yes. I'm amazed you guys got away with that."

"Me too. I mean, we almost didn't, but still. Anyways, Sam finally got me to work out with him after that. And he roped Coach Beiste into it. So."

"Well," Quinn says leaning over the bed to kiss him, "I can't really complain about it."

Artie grins. "You know you're welcome to hang out all day here if you want. If you don't want to go home."

Quinn grimaces. "My mother is being brattier than usual, but Rachel should be home too – NYADA's spring break is the same as Yale's. I'll go visit her."

Artie shakes his head and laughs.

She cocks her eye brow at him. "What's so funny, buster?"

"I was just thinking how all of this, especially that last statement, would make our sophomore-year selves have complete and total meltdowns."

Quinn laughs and stretches lazily. "I thought pretty much the same thing on the trip here. Thank god for maturity."

Artie watches her body move under the sheet.

"Yes," he agrees solemnly, as he rolls toward the bathroom. "Thank god indeed."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "Okay, you. Go shower. You smell."

"Like love!" he calls from the sink.

There's a pause, then he rolls himself back to the door and stick his head back out. "That sounded better in my head."

"I can tell."

"Care to join me?"

Quinn actually looks surprised at this. "Are you sure?"

"You've already seen my shower bench. You had your own for a while. And, well, you have seen me naked."

She smiles. "Well, get in, then. You're washing my back."

"Yes, ma'am."

And then the doorbell rings.

Santana Lopez glares out the window of the airplane, fuming.

There's such a thing as drive. She knows that. Her papa had told her that when she was pretty young: 'Santana, when you grow older, like me –'

'You mean with gray hair and wrinkles, papa?'

' . . . Yes. With gray and wrinkles, sweetie. And when you have those, you will know that in this world, you have to have determination to survive.'

'I thought you only need food and water to survive, papa.'

'Ah, but Santana, is that really surviving . . . ? Ah, well. You're probably a bit young to for that conversation. What I'm trying to tell you is, you need to try really hard at everything and your best at most things.'

It was a moment she still treasured deep in her heart, though she'd never told anyone about it, not even Brittany. Though it wasn't like Brittany didn't know her father was one of the most awesome people ever.

Santana's relationship with her mother had always been hit-and-miss, but her father had always been there for her. Even when his work at the hospital had left him exhausted, he had (nearly) infinite patience with his daughter (which he'd needed). He had taught Santana about drive, passion, determination, whatever you want to call it, by example, saving lives and helping people and doctor-y things.

The point is: Santana understands drive, which is why she understands Rachel Berry. Usually. Sometimes she doesn't, like when Rachel randomly freaks out about their old Glee club, or something, and hops on a plane back to Lima without even seeing if either of them wanted to come with.

And now, instead of an admittedly smoking hot midget sitting next to her, she has a young, well-dressed, way-to-cute-for-his-own-good business guy smiling at her. A lot.

It's a shame they took her switchblade and brass knuckles at security and made her put it in her luggage, but they can't take her fists away.

It's going to be a long trip.

As the engine of her Dad's Mini Cooper dies, Rachel Berry looks out the window at the sun slowly climbing into the sky over Lima, Ohio. It looks, she thinks absentmindedly, like it's going to be a beautiful day. That is one thing she is willing to admit she misses about this place: The sunrises and sunsets are almost always wonderful. And you can never see the stars in New York.

She climbs briskly out of the car and shuts the door, making sure to lock it, even though it's not quite eight o'clock on a Monday morning in one of the nicer sections of Lima's suburbs.

She walks to the door of the large house half hidden by large, slightly untidy green shrubs, and knocks.

Nothing happens for several minutes. Rachel listens to the birds chirp.

She rings the doorbell this time. This is ridiculous, she thinks to herself. Last year it took him roughly eleven point two seconds to open the door. It's been forty.

Finally she hears footsteps approach, and the door opens.

Artie Abrams, wearing gray sweatpants and a white v-neck, stares up at her in complete disbelief.

"Rachel?"

It isn't Artie's worst nightmare, not even in the top ten – but definitely in the top twenty five. Especially last year, when she would show up at the ass-crack of dawn every few school days and insist he learn what it meant to be a Glee Club Captain. No one should have to deal with her so early in the morning. Not even Rick the Stick. Or Hitler.

It had gotten to the point where his mother and sister would have pancakes or waffles or whatever set out for the slightly neurotic girl. They seemed to enjoy teasing him mercilessly about it, and even the one time Brittany had slept over when they were out of town, his (now ex-) girlfriend had helped Allie make fucking blueberry pancakes for Rachel!

It was a cosmic joke, in his opinion. Just something that happened. Except it was happening again, and Rachel is supposed to be fifteen hundred miles away! In college! And there was definitely someone in his bedroom who would probably not appreciate Rachel knowing about it!

"What are you doing here?" he asks weakly. Probably being rude, but in his opinion, considering the situation, it's a valid question.

Rachel gives him a supercilious look. "Aren't you going to invite me in your lovely home?"

Artie shakes his head. Same old Rachel Berry.

He rolls backward, letting her inside. She steps in, glancing at the photos on the wall. He's pretty sure they're the same as they were last time she was here.

"I have been hearing some very disturbing things about Glee club, Artie," Rachel says primly, looking at him as though he's a misbehaving child. "Things that make me – "

"Nuh uh," Artie says, holding his hand in the air. "Hold up, woman. You don't stomp into an old friend's house at eight a.m. to lecture them and not give them a hug first."

Rachel's cool façade cracks momentarily, and she bends down to give him a warm hug and an affectionate peck on the cheek.

"You're right," she says, slightly abashed, "I forgot my manners. Please forgive me."

Artie waves his hand, but before he can deliver a flippant response, the paraplegic is interrupted by a messy-haired, freckled head poking from around the corner. "Rachel?"

The youngest Abrams sibling beams and launches herself into the brunette's arms. Rachel laughs and hugs back. "Hello, Allie! I've missed you!"

"Well, that makes one of us," Artie mutters. Allie, five years his junior, a tall eighth grader with the same dark hair and bright blue eyes as her brother, smacks his shoulder and turns back to Rachel.

"You've gotten hot in New York," she says admiringly.

Rachel laughs and compliments Allie back, though Artie has to agree with his sister. The black dress and scarf, plus the thigh-high fake-leather boots and black eye-liner – she's got it all going on. To put it mildly.

Then Allie says, "Wow, Artie, you're just rolling in the hot chicks already, and it's only eight o'clock," and he freezes.

"Allie . . ."

"What? It's true," Allie's grin becomes absolutely evil. "It's like a regular class reunion . . ."

Artie glares furiously at her, trying not to blush. Rachel looks at them, confused.

"Well," says Allie brightly, "you guys can go to Artie's room and talk about singing and stuff, and I'll make you some toast!"

She scampers off, giggling with wicked glee.

Before he can stop her, Rachel crosses to his room and puts her hand on the doorknob.

"Rachel, I don't think that's a –"

She opens the door.

"Rachel?"

"Quinn?!"

Artie holds his head in his hands.

Unique waves as Jake and Marley head off to her house, which is a few blocks away from hers. She wipes her brow, it's warm for this time of year. She resumes her walk along the sidewalk, glancing to her right and scowling slightly. Unique doesn't like eyesores and that's about all you can call the construction site that takes up most of this block. Just a lot of brown dirt, bricks, a chain-link fence and weird smells. They should build something pretty here, Unique thinks. It will probably be just another generic apartment building, though.

Her architecturally-inclined musings are interrupted a minute later by unwelcome voices.

She'd thought she'd made it far enough, with Jake and Marley accompanying her, that these dumb bitches wouldn't be an issue, but it seems they had been waiting for her.

Not a good sign.

She risks a glance behind her and swears under her breath. They have guys with them this time.

They begin taunting her when they get twenty feet, or so, behind her. She doesn't turn, just keeps walking, wondering if she should risk running in heels.

They keeps saying horrible things. She feels them begin to close in on her.

She begins to walk as fast as she can. It doesn't work.

Unique trips and falls to her knees. Laughter explodes from behind her.

She tries to get up, but a rough hand grabs her shoulder –

It's a comforting hand. The laughter stops.

Unique opens her eyes. A massive figure is standing beside her, a hand on her shoulder. The girls look startled but still jeering, but the two handsome football-player types with them look seriously intimidated.

Her protector is wearing dirty blue jeans, a black muscle shirt and a neon-green construction vest, and a hard hat. Unique doesn't hear what he says, but her assailants scatter.

He looks down at her, contemplating, than offers her a hand. She takes it, and hauls her up with ease.

"Kurt told me about you," he says, eyeing her curiously. "You okay?"

She nods, a bit overwhelmed.

He smiles disarmingly. "Sorry. This is probably weird. I'm Dave. Dave Karofsky."

Unique smiles back and offers her hand, introducing herself, as her world, temporarily jolted out of orbit, begins to rotate once more.

That night Finn Hudson follows Puck through the well-lit dining floor of a bar and grill he's never been to before in Eastern Lima. Most of the occupants are middle-aged guys and their wives hanging out with other middle aged – guys and their wives. Puck heads to the bar and sits, smiling invitingly at the very pretty, very tattooed bartender. Finn settles in next to him, scanning the menu on the wall. He wants nothing more than a giant burger with everything on it. It's been a long week; he needs comfort food.

"So," says Puck, eyeing the bartender's low-cut shirt, "lemme get this straight. You went to New York and beat this slimy Brody dude's ass – and didn't tell me about it so I could come with, by the way – and just left? Without seeing her?"

"I don't think she wants to see me," Finn says, thanking the bartender for the glass of lemonade she hands him. Puck gets a beer, mostly due to a smile and his fake I.D.

"Dude, you guys totally got it on at Schue's not-wedding, right?"

"Well . . . yeah. But it's more complicated than that. I think. I mean, she really liked this guy. She needed Kurt and Santana, not me."

"Can I mention how hot Santana and Rachel living together is?"

"I know, dude."

"Well, I miss my Jew-bro, is all I'm saying. Another beer, please, beautiful?"

"Yeah, me too."

"So is that all you wanted to talk to your best bro about, or are you gonna have something to drink? When we get back to my place, I mean."

"Actually, Jake called me. I guess he and Ryder have a problem or something. I said I'd help them out. And the other guys will be here too."

"A Glee club problem, right? Because I don't want to help them if it's a different kind of problem, if you get me."

"Shut up, dude."

Right on cue, Jake and Ryder enter, spot the two men at the bar and walk over. Puck slaps his brother on the back and shakes hands with Ryder, and Finn turns on his stool to look at the two current Glee members. "Hey guys, what's up? Jake says you guys have a problem."

Ryder and Jake exchange hesitant looks, and Finn notices Ryder looks . . . well. Not good.

Jake takes the initiative. "It's a long story, guys. But basically . . . well. Ryder got tricked by this chick from another Glee club."

Finn and Pick exchange knowing looks. "That . . . sounds familiar. Who was it?"

"She said her name was Harmony," Ryder says, accepting a soda from the women behind the bar. "She was short and cute, and she had a great voice. Like scary great. And she didn't say where she was from, but all of her teammates were really good too."

Finn and Puck nod.

"Sounds like pretty standard diva bullshit to me," says Puck. "Don't tell Rachel I said that," he adds quickly.

Finn rolls his eyes. "Yeah, that sounds like something Vocal Adrenaline or the Warblers do. I don't know who this chick is, but I'll ask around – Kurt will know who she is, or he can ask Rachel. We'll find out and go from there. But look, man, whatever you do, don't get psyched out by this. That's exactly what they want. Don't let them do that to you. Just keep practicing for regionals, and you'll be fine."

He looks at Jake sternly. "Whatever you do, keep him busy, okay? You gotta help him."

Jake nods and claps Ryder on the back. Finn scrutinizes them. He's never been really good at reading people, but he's pretty sure he's a large part of why these two are friends, and there seems to be something . . . off . . . about them.

Oh well. It's not like these things don't happen in friendships. Look at him and Puck.

The bartender sets an avocado burger down in front of him, with lots of crunchy bacon and a bit of pico de gallo – an amazing invention, the burger, Finn thinks giddily as he takes a bite. The man who invented it should get the Nobel Prize or something.

As they start into their food, Puck stealing his onion rings, Artie and Blaine roll/walk up, followed by Sam and Joe. Finn watches in amusement as Puck slips off his seat, pickpockets Sam while giving him a bro-hug, and slides a twenty – enough for dinner - into the blonde boy's wallet.

"This is what I call a guy's night out," says Jake, grinning and handing drinks down towards the new comers.

Conversations about movies and music and girls and whatever ensue. Puck is on his fourth Corona when a grinning Mike Chang appears in the doorway, wearing a crisp white shirt and black tie, his hair brushed carefully out of his eyes.

Finn, Artie, Sam and Puck whoop and hug their old friend, who grins broadly and endures their teasing about his hair.

"So we're only really missing Rory, obviously, and Kurt, and Matt, I guess," Mike says, ordering ribs and finding a seat at the bar.

"I talked to Rory a few weeks ago, he's pretty good," Artie says, "I guess he's starting a Glee club at his school in Belfast – apparently their choir is really unpopular, but he has hopes."

This information is greeted with wise nods from a group of kids who know what that's like.

As the hanging out progresses, Puck quits flirting with the bartender – she's stunning, and those tattoos are nothing but sexy, but he can tell his bro needs him more. Well, he can't say he's ever had an actual conversation with Ryder before, but what the hell, any bro of his little bro is his bro, right?

The reason Puck had begun frequenting this place, besides their lax I.D. checking, good beer and fantastic food – not to mention fantastic looking staff – was the fact that every couple of nights, Mo, the cantankerous old owner/bartender/cook, would let him get up on the stage, play guitar for an hour or too, and collect tips and whatnot.

And if there's anything at all he ever learned in Glee club, it's that singing just makes you feel better.

And so he nods to the stout grey haired gentleman behind the bar, who gives him a suspicious squint that says, 'Don't steal my silverware, you rascally bastard!'

Puck has no idea why he would want to steal forks and shit, but that's Mo for you. He grabs a confused Ryder and points him in the direction of the stage, than exchanges looks with Finn, who, like any good best friend, has already read Puck's mind. He pulls the small, old, but still working drum kit onto the stage, Mike and Jake lift Artie's chair onto the stage so he can play bass, Puck and Sam plug their guitars in –

Finn hits the first notes of the song, and Ryder slowly starts to grin. The patrons of Mo's Bar and Grill look up in surprise; they're used to the kid with the Mohawk and his acoustic guitar, not noisy classic rock.

They don't seem to mind though; some even stand up excitedly as Ryder begins singing.

Midnight, gettin' uptight, where are you?
You said you'd meet me, now it's quarter to two
I know I'm hangin' but I'm still wantin' you
Hey Jack, it's a fact they're talkin' in town
I turn my back and you're messin' around
I'm not really jealous, don't like lookin' like a clown
I think of you ev'ry night and day
You took my heart then you took my pride away

Ryder feels himself calming down somehow as he performs, picturing Harmony typing on her keyboard. His fists unclench and he lets himself fall into the song.

I hate myself for loving you
Can't break free from the things that you do
I wanna walk but I run back to you
That's why I hate myself for loving you

As Kurt Hummel sits down in a booth at a diner near Times Square, his phone goes off.

He looks around to see if the person he's meeting here is nearby, which he isn't, and glances at the display.

He picks up. "Hey, Finn."

"Hey, little brother. How's it going?"

"Pretty good, you know. It's kind of nice to have the apartment all to myself. How is it in Lima? Have you seen everyone yet?"

Finn's tone is slightly evasive. "Uh, yeah. I mean, most of everybody. They all say hi and stuff."

Kurt sighs. He considers saying something like You should go see Rachel, she'd like that, but he decides against it. It's none of his business, after all. "Well, you tell them I say 'hi and stuff' back."

"Alright, I will. Listen, bro, I wanted to ask you something."

Kurt frowns. Looks like this conversation is going to be about Rachel after all. "Okay, go ahead."

"Do you know anybody named Harmony? That was in a Glee club back here in Ohio?"

Kurt blinks. His mind hesitates for a moment, then produces an image of a dark haired girl with a too-bright smile. What was that she had said to him? 'I'm just a sophomore. Next year it'll be a slaughter!'

"Yeah, I do, actually," he says, "She was – I don't remember the name of her club, but she was in the NYADA applications group. She's really good and kind of crazy. Why?"

"She's been screwing with one of the kids. Ryder, actually. Like Jesse St. James-style."

Kurt frowns. "That . . . doesn't actually sound very much like her at all. Are you sure?"

"I mean, I didn't see her or anything, but he said that's her name, and he said she looked the same way you said. So."

Kurt frowns. "Hmm. Well, Finn, It's nothing we – they – haven't been through before. I'm sure Mr. Schue can handle it, if it comes to that."

He catches a glimpse of a man entering the diner, and adds, "Finn, listen, I'd love to talk more, but I'm kind of meeting someone . . ."

Finn laughs. "Got a date, huh, little brother?"

"Not exactly," Kurt says as Representative Burt Hummel (I-Ohio) slides into the seat across from him.

"It's Finn," Kurt says to his father, still holding the phone to his ear. "You want to - ?"

Burt grins and talks to his adopted son for a few moments – mostly about the tire shop, than about some baseball thing Kurt doesn't pretend to understand.

Finally Burt ends the call and hands the phone back to his son, grinning warmly. He's wearing his usual outfit – his now weather beaten black NYADA cap, thick vest and plaid shirt. He shows no sign whatsoever of being sick. Not that Kurt's looking.

"Hey, Dad," says Kurt, smiling happily. "Is that really what you wore to Washington?"

Burt roars with laughter.

Rachel is lounging at her father's kitchen table sipping Thai green tea while Hiram Berry cooks tofu for lunchtime fajitas when Quinn rings the doorbell.

Rachel opens the door, beaming and kissing Quinn's cheek in greeting.

"Long time no see!" she says cheekily, unable to resist.

Quinn rolls her eyes. "Very funny, Rachel. From some of the things I've hear about your last boytoy . . ."

Rachel sighs dramatically. "Yes, well, we all make mistakes. Not that I think Artie is a mistake, you understand. Though I wonder if I should be on my guard."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Rachel says, looking suspiciously demure, "From what I've been hearing, you have now officially 'hooked up' with five different members of the Glee club. Am I next . . . ?"

The tiny woman grins wickedly. Quinn eyes her sternly. "That would be four, with Artie, Rachel."

Rachel stops in the doorway of the kitchen, her eyes twinkling. "Santana talks in her sleep, sweetie."

Quinn groans. Rachel cackles. Hiram glances up at them, sliding bell peppers around in the skillet.

"Hey, Mr. Berry," Quinn says charmingly, though she always feels awkward talking to the parents of the girl she bullied for years. But Hiram just smiles and takes her hand, bowing elegantly to kiss her knuckles.

"It's Hiram, dear, as always," the tallest Berry says, adjusting his glasses and returning to the meal he's preparing. 'How do you feel about tofu?"

"It's totally fine," says Quinn, "as long as it's not tofu bacon."

Rachel snorts. Hiram roars with laughter. "I quite agree, Quinn. This'll be ready in a half an hour or so, ladies. Feel free to do whatever until then. Keep her out of trouble!" he adds to the blonde as they leave the kitchen.

Rachel sighs with gusto, but Quinn just smiles. It's strange having your parents tease you like that.

Rachel pulls off her dress when they get to the backyard, where the swimming pool is abutted by carefully trimmed lawn and rose bushes which, along with the high wooden fence, border the yard. The brunette taps a few buttons on the stereo leaning against the house, which begins playing not the showtune that Quinn had been expecting but a relatively new song, 'Hurricane' by MS MR. She then throws herself onto a beach chair and grabs for her sunglasses. "I will admit – in the privacy of my former home – that I do miss Ohio weather. If nothing else."

Quinn nods, pulling the sundress hiding her swimsuit off and sliding into the chair next to Rachel. "Me too."

She glances over and blinks. "Jesus, Rachel, have you been doing crunches instead of seeping all this time? Coach Sylvester is probably drooling over those right now while she spies on us. And not in the good way. If there is any good way involving that."

"Thank you, I think. She's not really spying on us, is she?"

"With her, you really never know. Are you trying to add yourself to my 'list'?"

"What, Santana is good enough, but I'm not?" Rachel asks, laughing.

Quinn sighs, already regretting that line. "That's not what I said . . . "

"Mm-hmm. So how was that, anyway?"

"What, Santana? Well, she's not exactly a novice, I'll tell you that."

"Well . . . I mean. Not to be rude, but obviously."

Quinn chuckles. "You didn't, by any chance, watch that video of her and B-"

"No," Rachel says, much too quickly.

Quinn bursts out laughing. "Yeah, okay, Rachel, whatever you say."

"I didn't!"

"You're normally a much better liar than that. And you live with her, not me. All you have to do is ask, trust me," Quinn finishes sweetly.

Rachel colors, shaking her head. "I'm not even – no. Kurt would murder me, for one thing. On general principle."

Quinn winces.

"He always was slower to forgive us for all that," she says quietly.

Rachel smiles, her face softening. "He has, though. A long time ago. Otherwise Santana wouldn't be living with us. You know she and him have been watching this terrible show called Game of Thrones? They're practically best friends now."

"I've heard it's really good, actually. Never had time to watch it."

"Everyone keeps dying! It's terrible, really. I don't know how they can watch it. No one even sings. Ever."

Quinn snorts. "That's not really one of your criteria for good television, is it? Singing?"

Rachel shrugs, grinning.

They sit in silence for a moment, enjoying the sunshine. The music has become 'I Love It' by Icona Pop.

"So," says Rachel delicately, "If I may ask, how did you and Artie . . . you know?"

"Hook up?"

"Yes."

"He called me when I was on the train to the airport. I don't know if you knew this, but we'd sort of kept in touch ever since the wheelchair thing and the physical therapy and all. And then when I got home, my mom was drinking, and, well. I stayed as long as I had too, then I went over to his place. And . . . well. The boy can be charming when he doesn't think about it too much."

Rachel smiles. "I suppose he can."

The screen door behind them opens, and Hiram calls them in for lunch. Rachel leaps up, slides her dress back on, and grabs Quinn's hand, laughing. She hasn't accomplished her goal yet, to find herself again, but this afternoon feels like it will help with that somehow.

Will Schuester writes 'Regionals' on the whiteboard with a sharp flourish.

"Okay, guys! It's finally time – time for our second chance! Time to prove that we've still got what it takes. Regionals! This year's theme is '2012-2013', because – well, honestly, I think it's because they want to sell more tickets to this thing. But anyways! You guys pick songs from this year and last year, and we'll figure out which ones we'll use."

Jake raises his hand; Will points at him.

Jake takes this as an invitation to speak; he stands up and faces the rest of the club. "Okay, guys," he says. "We know it's going to take a lot to win regionals, both singing and dancing. We know we can do the first part, it's the second part that's our kryptonite."

"No more Gangnam Style," Tina mutters, putting her hands over her eyes.

Jake grins. "Yeah, exactly. So it's a good thing we have some people who can help us."

He makes a 'Take it away!' gesture towards the door. Quinn Fabray, Rachel Berry, Noah Puckerman, Mercedes Jones, and Santana Lopez stroll into the choir room, taking places around the room.

Will beams. "You guys! It's great to see you all, and h-"

"Uh, Mr. Schue?"

"Jake?"

"I wasn't done . . . sorry."

"Oh. Well. Continue, please."

Jake points his thumb at the still open door. "And for us guys, specifically –"

Two more individuals enter the room. Mike Chang, his hair in a ponytail, grins at the Glee club, waving. Matthew Rutherford, hands in the pockets of his gray slacks, wearing a grey blazer over a red hoodie in some fetching combination of classy and urban.

Even the other graduates look shocked at his appearance. Puck howls in delight and bear hugs the former McKinley student, Quinn and Rachel leap into his arms, Mercedes kisses his cheek and Santana fist bumps him. The Glee kids look nonplussed.

Matt doesn't say a word through the entire greeting, just smiles, then, when everyone looks at him, he looks at Mike, who nods at the band, who mysteriously know what to play.

The song is 'Hip Hop?' by Hocus Pocus, and while the Glee club is blown away by Mike and Matt's French rapping, they're in awe of the flawless dancing and teamwork, even Artie, who's seen it many times before, and Brittany, who considers dancing her Unicorn Gift.

"Okay, guys," says Mike, clapping his hands – altogether a good Mr. Schue impression. "The time for sitting down is over. Regionals is in six days, so get up and let's get to work."

The Glee kids leap (mostly) eagerly from their seats. Ryder hangs back, still feeling unsure – he doesn't know any of these intimidating older kids (who won Nationals!), but Mike beckons him over, grinning. He takes Ryder and steers him towards the auditorium.

"Alright, dude," the Asian man says confidently. "Jake told me about your, ah, predicament. Let's get you in fighting shape, so you can show that girl what you – and what your teammates - have got."

Ryder nods in determination.

Noah Puckerman knocks on the door of the apartment twice.

The building is two story and brick, in one of the nicest parts of Lima. Noah glances behind him at the trees, gently rustling in the afternoon sun, that line the sidewalk and nods to himself. This is the perfect place for his daughter, really, he thinks contentedly.

The door opens and Shelby glances out. "Oh! Noah. I forgot you were coming today . . ."

She steps aside to let him in. He enters, frowning slightly.

"Something wrong?" he murmurs so Beth won't hear him. Shelby hesitates.

"No, not really, it's just that I forgot you said you were coming today, and . . ."

She gestures with her head to the living room. Noah looks to see Beth cradled in Quinn's arms, waving happily at her father. Noah smiles, waving back and looking at Quinn questioningly. She pats the carpet next to her, looking apologetic.

Noah lays down on the floor next to Quinn, letting Beth clamber on top of him, squealing with joy.

"Well," Noah says, patting her golden curls affectionately, "Someone sure got lucky today, huh? Mommy, Mom and Daddy, all at once!"

Beth sits cross-legged on his stomach and cheers. Puck laughs, glancing at the TV, which is showing a rerun of Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends. Quinn doesn't really speak to him, but it's not an uncomfortable rapport – it's just that Beth instantly receives all of their attention, without trying at all.

The TV is forgotten as they wind through games – board games, make-believe games, tickle games, word games. After dinner Noah produces his guitar and lets Beth play with it for a while. The toddler's eyes light up when Shelby, Quinn and Noah all sing together, and Quinn decides right there to ask the other Glee graduates to sing with her for her daughter's birthday. Maybe they can record something over break, since they probably won't be able to gather out of the blue in March.

At around eight they say goodbye and Noah offers Quinn a ride, which she accepts.

"I can't believe you get to see her every week," Quinn mumbles as she buckles her seatbelt. Her face is glowing with that sort of blissful maternal love.

"Since I moved back to Lima, yeah. It's awesome. La was cool for a while, but. I get to see my ma, my brother and my sister whenever I want too."

"Does she spend time with all of your family?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, not all the time, but once a month or so we'll have an afternoon to hang out and play and shit, just us Puckerman's. Jake hasn't spent much time with her, just at Hannukah. But ma and Sarah love her. And sometimes Finn will come with me. I can't get him to stop calling her Drizzle, but she likes it. Calls him Uncle Finn and everything."

Quinn chuckles, her mind flashing back to sophomore year Spanish class when Finn had handed her that note. "That's kind of adorable."

"I guess. Why? Are you worried that she hasn't met her other Grandma?"

"No. I mean . . . it's not Beth that's the problem, it's my mom."

"Ah. I thought you guys were cool now?"

"It's . . . complicated."

Puck just nods. He knows about complicated.

They turn onto the old country roads, bordered by empty fields and small houses illuminated by the full moon. Quinn rolls the window down, letting the cool breeze bathe her face.

"So I heard you and my boy Artie are an item now," Puck says casually.

Quinn gives him a sharp look. "What? Where did you hear that?"

Puck laughs. "I thought so. No one told me, but I saw your mom's car in his driveway when I was taking Sarah to school this morning. I'm pretty sure it wasn't Mrs. Fabray giving him an early morning visit."

Quinn glares at him. "It's none of your business, Puckerman. And that's gross."

Puck smiles unpleasantly. "It will be my business if you break his heart."

"I'm not going to! God, Puck, we've spent like one night together!"

His expression turns serious. "Look, Quinn. You do realize Artie's had a, a crush, I guess, on you for a while now. Ever since your accident."

"Your point is?"

"My point is, don't get his hopes up to high. I mean, you're going back to Yale at the end of the week, right?" he says, as the truck heads into downtown Lima.

"Of course."

"So . . . I don't know. Make sure he knows that. Look, I'm only saying this because I care about both of you. A lot."

She looks over at him. His profile is mostly obscured by the darkness.

"I know, Noah," she says gently.

They pass under a streetlight. Puck's face, adorned by a small smile, is briefly visible.

They travel in silence for a little while, then Puck asks, "So is that all you're doing all week, just going to Glee and getting your sexy on with Artie?"

"No, I hung out with Rachel yesterday."

Puck laughs. "That's such a weird thing to hear you say."

"I know, I've had that pointed out to me by multiple people already this week."

Puck's lips twitch. "It's okay, you know. We all know you guys are pretty much Elphaba and Glinda."

Quinn stares at him in complete disbelief. "What did you just say?!"

"You heard me."

"Who are you, and what have you done with Noah Puckerman?! Is this Rachel playing a trick on me?"

Puck gives her an injured look. "I'm allowed to be smart too, you know."

"My world is still rocking. I think I need a moment."

"Oh, come on. Anyways, you guys may have hated each other or whatever a long time ago, but now you guys are like bros. Which is really cool."

"Well, thank you, Puck. I think."

"And also hot."

"You couldn't resist, could you?"

"I don't change my ways, babe. Much."

"Since you're currently dating a sophomore, I guess that's true."

"Touche, baby mama. Although I wouldn't call it dating."

"Jeez, Puck. You need to settle down. And don't give me any of that 'I'm the Puckasaurus, babe, too good for any one chick' BS."

"The last time I tried to 'settle down' with some chick was with Zizes. And look how that turned out."

Quinn sighs. "Okay, fine. Have it your way."

She reaches over and puts her hand over his much larger one covering the shifter. He smiles affectionately as the truck pulls up in front of her house. All of the lights are still on.

Puck notes her hesitation and says, "You know, Finn and I were going to hang out and stuff tonight. You can too. If you want."

". . . will I have to play video games?"

"Well. You won't have too."

Quinn just shakes her head and laughs. "Alright. Let me check on her, then I'll be right back out."

She disappears into the large, not-quite-a-mansion-but-still-big-as-dicks house. Puck hangs out in the truck, singing along to Imagine Dragons and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

After ten minutes he's getting antsy, and then Quinn reappears out of the front door. He rolls his eyes when he realizes she's wearing different clothes.

"Really?"

She glares at him. Instead of the nice dress and cardigan she'd worn to Shelby's, she's now wearing a tattered Misfits t-shirt and pajama pants. "These are comfortable."

She notes his glance at her shirt and says, "From my pink-hair days."

"You were hot back then. A royal bitch – no offense, but the smoking was disgusting – but still hot."

"What, are you saying I'm not hot now?"

"Dude, cool your jets. I'm just saying that the pink hair was hotter than usual. Definitely not the tramp stamp though."

"That shocks me, coming from you."

"It wasn't the tattoo, it was the subject matter. How is a dude supposed to do it doggystyle if there's some other dude's fuckin' face staring at you from the chick's back?"

"You . . . wow. I don't even know what to say to that."

"Speechless? Happens a lot around me."

"Oh, shut up."

They both laugh all the way back to his apartment.

The next morning, Sarah Puckerman walks out her front door dressed for school and walks two blocks to her brother's apartment. She opens the unlocked front door and finds Noah asleep on the couch, Finn sprawled out on the floor, his maroon button up shirt open and one sock on, and Quinn, who is playing Bioshock Infinite with an weary but intent look on her face. The sound is pretty high, so the blonde girl doesn't notice her come in at first. When she does, she finds Sarah leaning on the doorframe to the tiny living room with a smirk on her face. Quinn moves to hide the controller and pretend to be bored, or something, but Sarah just laughs. "You finally succumbed, huh, big sister?"

Quinn smiles, not so much at the comment but the 'big sister' appellation she had earned three years ago when she'd been living with the Puckerman's. She and Sarah had treaded around each other in uncomfortable trepidation for the first few weeks, a tense situation that had evolved into a rather childish fistfight when no one else was home. The sisterly bonding had officially begun.

Now Sarah is three years older, tall for thirteen and pretty in a tomboy-ish way. Quinn pauses the game and stands up – stumbling slightly from fatigue – and hugs the younger girl tightly. "Long time no see, munchkin. How are you?"

"I'm fine. School sucks, but sports are fun. Noah says he'll talk to Coach Beiste so I can join the high school football team next year, but he hasn't done it yet. Too lazy."

Quinn chuckles and nudges Puck's shoulder with her leg, none too gently. He grunts in his sleep. "Sounds like him. Do you need a ride to school?"

"That'd be nice, yeah."

Quinn grabs Puck's keys from the kitchen table and follows Sarah out to the truck.

"Are you staying for a while?" Sarah asks hopefully.

""fraid not, sweetie. Just for break. I'm heading back on Sunday."

Sarah nods resignedly. Quinn reaches over and pats the girls knee apologetically.

"We'll hang out or something, munchkin. I promise. Maybe we can go buy you a dress?"

"Fuck no!"

Quinn roars with laughter.

Matt Rutherford watches Jake complete the final moves of the song, panting slightly from exertion. The younger boy looks at his mentor questioningly.

Matt just nods.

Mike and Ryder approach, the latter looking tired and drained from all the Glee training. Not just dancing, of course, but repetitive practice of their songs.

"Ready?" Mike says cheerfully, tying up his hair.

Matt and Jake nod.

Matt takes one step forward and kicks open the auditorium doors, revealing a hallway filled with chattering students standing at their lockers.

The four men move forward in perfect synchronicity, Ryder taking the lead.

If I could write you a song
And make you fall in love
I would already have you up under my arm.
I used up all of my tricks,
I hope that you like this.
But you probably won't.
You think you're cooler than me.

You got designer shades,
Just to hide your face
And you wear them around like you're cooler than me.
And you never say "Hey"
Or remember my name.
And it's probably cause you think you're cooler than me.

The kids all stop what they're doing to watch the quite attractive Glee members singing and dancing sdown the hallway, combining a certain irresistible amount of swagger and class. A corner of Matt's mind notices with surprise how many kids are openly enjoying the performance. The school has certainly changed since he was here.

You got your high brow,
Shoes on your feet,
And you wear them around
Like they ain't shit.
But you don't know the way that you look,
When your steps make that much noise.

Shh I got you all figured out,
You need everyone's eyes just to feel seen.
Behind your make-up nobody knows who you even are
Who do you think that you are?

They make their way to the choir room and burst inside, Ryder sliding on his knees as they enter.

If I could write you a song
And make you fall in love
I would already have you up under my arm.
I used up all of my tricks,
I hope that you like this.
But you probably won't.
You think you're cooler than me.

The rest of the club applauds wildly, patting Ryder and Jake as they return to their places next to Marley and Joe.

"Wow, you guys!" says Will, clapping just as hard as the kids. "That was incredible!"

"It was okay," says Santana, inspecting her perfect nails.

"I think that proves our dancers are ready for Regionals, right guys?" Will continues.

Santana shoots daggers at him with her eyes. Brittany pipes up, looking injured. "Mr. Schue! I haven't gone yet. I'm ready too!"

Will chuckles. "Brittany, please. Everyone knows you're ready. You've proved yourself many times over."

He starts applauding again, and the Glee club cheers. Santana stops looking like she's going to strangle someone.

"Artie, you have the set list and everything figured out? Blaine and Brittany, everyone knows the choreography? Marley, you're feeling good . . . ? Okay, then. Looks like we're just about ready . . . just keep practicing, everybody. We're going to win this thing!"

Santana Lopez is striding towards the exit of McDickly High when someone taps her on the shoulder.

She whirls around, ready to completely decimate whoever –

It's that girl. The evil mini-Quinn-but-not-as-hot girl.

"What?" she snarls.

She'll give what's-her-name credit. She barely flinches.

"Hello, Miss Lopez. I was just wondering – could you sign this?"

The girl – isn't she dating Puck or some shit? That's gross – hands her a photo. It's a team photo from early last year; Quinn, Santana and Brittany are clearly visible in front. There are already three signatures on it – Quinn's Brittany's, and Becky's.

"Go fuck yourself," Santana says cheerfully, and heads for the door again.

"What's your problem?" The girl snaps. Apparently her feelings are hurt. "Why are you so pissed at me? Is it because of my flawless, fair complexion or my –"

"Oh, save it," Santana says. "My problem is, you're a bitch. And not a truthful, tough lovin' bitch like your Auntie Snix, but a lying, skulking bitch who's trying to undermine everybody else to get a leg up. Don't interrupt me! Now, I'll admit, there was a time – not that long ago – when I was the same way. And it was a close one – I might not have become this beautiful champion of harsh truth and awesome lesbian sexiness that I am today, if not for some real tough loving and understanding from people that I cared about, and who cared about me."

She takes a step closer to Kitty, who looks unnerved.

"Now I can see you're getting close to a turning point, whether you either decide to put your trust in – say – Marley, just for example, or you go to the black side of the Force or whatever the hell it is that cripple says. So I'm going to be a nice Auntie Snix, ha ha, not really, and tell you to get your slightly undernourished and thin ass in gear and take the high road – by which I don't mean go snort coke off a teenage Thai hooker's glued-on tits, but actually try and be there for people and let them be there for you. Okay? Don't just stand there, go be a vaguely nice person to your teamates! Shoo!"

Kitty turns and runs, looking shocked and slightly terrified.

Santana drops her ferocious expression and smirks to herself. She turns and stops again. Artie s sitting in front of the doors, looking annoyed.

"What?" Santana snaps. "Pissed because I called you a cripple?"

"No," says Artie. "'The black side of the Force'? Really? I know you've seen Star Wars."

Santana relaxes. "She doesn't need to know that."

Artie chuckles. "Okay then. Have it your way. You okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be? Your concern, however, is appreciated, midget. Oh, wait; you're not short, you're just – "

"Oh, haha. Actually, I will admit that even if I was standing, we'd be the same height. So."

Santana just laughs.

"Me and Mike and Matt and Quinn are gonna go to the Lima Bean, and then probably go do some stuff somewhere. You wanna come with?"

"Are Brittany and Sam going to be there?"

"I don't believe so," Artie says neutrally. "And if they are – since I invited you first – I will politely tell them to bugger off."

Santana smiles. "Thanks, wheels. You know, you can actually be pretty cool sometimes. For a guy."

"You can be too. For an evil harridan."

They both grin at each other.

Ryder is standing in the auditorium, staring at the rows of empty seats facing him. In his mind, they're filled with people laughing at him, because they know how Harmony tricked him and made a fool out of him.

He tries to hum a bit of "Juke Box Hero", but it doesn't work. He just stares at the empty seats.

After a while he sits and wraps his arms around his knees.

He can't stop thinking about that girl. He'd searched her eyes all the while she'd been singing, trying to find a hint of remorse or . . . something other than a sneer or smirk.

He hadn't found it.

It's strange how, this last week, he hasn't been able to get that encounter out of his head. It's all that he thinks about, that and Regionals. Where he'll see her again.

He sighs. Being in love sucks.

Then someone sits next to him, and he starts.

Rachel Berry smiles kindly at him. "Hello, Ryder. I don't think we've really met."

Ryder stares at her in surprise. "No," he says finally, "But I know who you are."

Rachel's lips twitch. "You know, when I was your age – wow, saying that makes me feel old – I would have killed to hear someone say that like you just did."

Ryder shrugs. "Everyone here talks about you. And the other guy – Kurt. You should here some of the things Artie and Brittany say about you."

Rachel smiles. "They're sweet. You know Artie got into MIT and Yale and Dartmouth? And Brittany is going to L.A. for one of the dance academies? They're not exactly slouches."

"No. But still."

Rachel nods. "Well, that's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about. They – and Blaine will be gone next year. It will be up to you, Ryder Flynn, and Jacob Puckerman, and Marley Rose, to carry on for the rest of these kids. It will be your job – your responsibility – to offer them a safe haven from everyone who's out –" she gestures away from herself – "there. Trying to beat them down. It took me a long time to realize that, and recently I've forgotten it completely," she adds contritely.

Ryder looks at her, not sure what she means.

"But that's next year. And right now, you look like you need to recuperate inside the safe haven. Regain your strength so that you can face down those outside."

Ryder nods. "Yes. That's what I need. I don't want to hide, I want to –"

"To confront them."

"Yeah. Exactly. But I don't want to do it until I know I'm ready."

Rachel smiles. "And maybe I can help you with that. I do have some experience with what you're talking about, as it happens."

She offers him a hand. He takes it. He blinks in surprise when she hauls him to his feet without effort. Apparently that sweater is hiding some serious muscles.

'What do you like to play?" she asks.

Ryder considers. "I don't know. Mostly rock stuff, I guess."

Rachel glances around the stage and spies an acoustic guitar lying on the floor. She picks it up and sits on the piano bench. "Noah taught me how to play, a little bit – Jacob's older brother," she adds, seeing the puzzled look on his face.

She plays a few chords, then begins plucking the strings in a tune he recognizes after only a few notes.

"I keep hearing this on the radio, and I really like it – you know it?" she asks, glancing up at him. He nods, taking a deep breath.

I'm gonna pick up the pieces,
And build a Lego house
If things go wrong we can knock it down

My three words have two meanings,
There's one thing on my mind
It's all for you

And it's dark in a cold December, but I've got you to keep me warm
If you're broken I will mend you and I'll keep you sheltered from the storm that's raging on now

I'm out of touch, I'm out of love
I'll pick you up when you're getting down
And out of all these things I've done I think I love you better now
I'm out of sight, I'm out of mind
I'll do it all for you in time
And out of all these things I've done I think I love you better now

I'm gonna paint you by numbers
And colour you in
If things go right we can frame it and put you on a wall

And it's so hard to say it but I've been here before
Now I'll surrender up my heart
And swap it for yours

I'm out of touch, I'm out of love
I'll pick you up when you're getting down
And out of all these things I've done I think I love you better now
I'm out of sight, I'm out of mind
I'll do it all for you in time
And out of all these things I've done I think I love you better now

Rachel lets the final notes fade away, then winces, shaking her hands. "I'm going to have calluses now. Wonderful."

She sets the instrument aside and stands. He looks at her and smiles gratefully. "Thanks. Really."

Rachel pats his shoulder warmly. "I think, in some way, I needed this too. So thank you, Ryder."

She walks off stage, towards the exit, then stops and turns. "I know what it feels like – like your world isn't turning the same anymore. You feel wrong, somehow."

Ryder just nods.

Rachel smiles. "I hope, come Friday evening, that your world gets back to where it should be."

She smiles warmly, then vanishes.

Ryder stares at the door for a moment, then decides to go find Blaine or Jake, instead of going home. He wants to practice some more.

Friday dawns, warm and clear.

Artie wakes up a few minutes before his alarm clock goes off, Quinn nestled at his side. He leans over and kisses her shoulder. He's going to miss this.

Tina snaps awake and lays for a moment, then yawns and finds her laptop and youtubes Red vs. Blue. Funny internet videos always help her face the morning.

Jake wakes up after an interesting dream involving Marley rescuing him from that white orc guy in the Hobbit. He's pretty sure there was a part in there where she wasn't wearing clothes. He shakes himself away from such distracting thoughts and throws himself out of bed, doing push-ups.

His older brother won't wake up for at least two more hours.

Kitty wakes up and snarls at her alarm clock.

Joe wakes, prays, and then turns on his stereo. He finds some Mahler – one of his grandfather's favorites – and puts it on as he gets in the shower.

Sam gets out of bed to the smell of bacon sizzling. He greets Finn, who's heading out the door for the tire shop, and Mrs. Hudson-Hummel, who smiles and sets a plate of eggs, bacon, hashbrowns, and a cup of sliced bananas and strawberries. His big boy, day of a competition breakfast. Sam smiles. His victory is already assured.

Santana wakes in her old room as her father comes home from work. She tosses on a kimono and greets him in the kitchen, kissing his cheek affectionately. He smiles wearily and hugs her, before heading for his bed. Santana pours herself some Lucky Charms, then changes her mind and charges upstairs to grab her running shoes and call Quinn.

Sugar slowly returns from dreamland in her massive bedroom. Her maid is waiting with a glass of soy milk and her dressing robe and slippers.

"Please inform Daddy and Mommy that I have a Glee competition this evening, and his attendance is required," she says to the handmaid, who curtseys and disappears.

Sugar eyes the soy milk with distaste, then glances down at herself.

"The things I do for you," she says out loud.

Brittany wakes up when Lord Tubbington sits on her face.

Blaine wakes up as his alarm radio starts playing the Lord of The Rings soundtrack. He rolls out of bed, replies to the good luck texts from Cooper and Kurt, then settles in to shower and gel.

Marley is shaken awake by her mother. "Good morning, Marley! Come get breakfast. You have to eat well if you're going to do good tonight . . ."

Marley listens to her mother's mutterings disappear as she heads down the stairs and smiles. Regionals are tonight. And she needs to focus with every fiber of her being. She will be the reason they win this time, not the reason they lose, she thinks with determination.

Harmony is already awake, sitting cross-legged onto her bed. Normally she'd be listening to Wicked or some Sondheim tune, but instead Christina Perri is playing. Not a good sign, she thinks morosely to herself.

Sebastian Smythe wakes up and curses Hunter Clarington in every language he knows. Which is several.

Quinn wakes up naked in Artie's bed, to the sound of pots and pans clanging in the kitchen, and her phone vibrating. She glances at the screen and sighs. She really doesn't want to go running. This is why she's not doing cheerleading – or any sport at all.

Kurt wakes up in the empty New York loft and quickly turns on the TV. The place is so lonely without Rachel and Santana; it needs noise. He flicks through Netflix until he finds Archer.

Sue Sylvester wakes from a dream of world domination, under the flag of one Sue Sylvester, and begins planning world domination, under the flag of one Sue Sylvester.

The coach of Goodtown High's Glee club wakes up, dons a black hooded cloak, looks in the mirror and chuckles evilly. The day has come – the day the New Directions will go down in flames.

Quinn feels her leg muscles burning as she slows to a jog.

"I hate you," she pants in Santana's direction.

"That's the fourteenth time you've said that this morning. I get the message."

"I can't believe you walked right into his house like that."

"I can't believe that brat tried to bean me with a frying pan. Kid's got spunk."

"Yeah, Allie's a good kid. How'd you know I was there, anyway?"

"Baby, please. Your little charade at the Lima Bean may have fooled the Silent Brothers, but not Auntie Snix."

"Will you stop calling yourself that? I think you've been living with Rachel for too long."

"Yeah. You know, I think I'm going to try and get all up on that hot midget when we get back to New York."

"Are you crazy?"

"Well, seeing you all unclothed and in bed and sex-haired and shit really got me going. And the little brat was still in the house, and, well, Wheels is great, but not so great that I would want to go for the menagé a trois."

"Jesus, San!"

"That's not helping either."

Quinn blushes fiercely at these mentions of her last encounter with the Latina next to her. That had been fun, but not so much that she'd like to just keep talking about it.

"Anyways. Christ, San, my legs hurt. You want to hang out today? I'm going to Shelby's at like three – we're going to take Beth to the competition – but until then, I have nothing to do."

"Sounds good. Have you ever been to the golf course by the Country Club?"

"Unfortunately, yes. Why?"

"Well, have you ever taken the golf carts for a little joyride?"

"You're insane. Let's go."

Sue Sylvester listens to the last bell ring and scowls.

A day of terror is here. A day she has been dreading ever since that ridiculous fiasco with the calendar. Sure, she had re-recruited Blaine Anderson into the cheerios, but that's small peanuts next to the fact that the Glee club is still alive and well. That's a big problem.

She taps her fingers on the table for a moment, then calls for Becky, who leaves her desk outside Sue's office to enter.

"Becky," says Sue in a foreboding tone, "prepare the LeCarr."

Puck parks the truck in the parking lot of Goodetown High school and glances at Finn, in the passenger seat.

"You ready, bro?"

Finn nods, though he looks a bit uncomfortable. Puck won't pretend to understand the whole deal with him and Mr. Schuester, but he will respect the other man's feelings. "We'll sit in the back, dude. It's cool."

Finn nods gratefully, and they get out and walk to where Quinn, Santana, Shelby, and Beth are standing.

Mike and Matt stand in the auditorium's control booth, looking down at the stage. They had bluffed their way into the room by claiming to be coaches, and simply acting like they belonged.

"Think we're ready?" Mike murmurs, his arms folded over his chest.

Matt is still for a moment, then nods.

Mike smiles slightly, glad to have his partner back.

Rachel taps her foot impatiently as the auditorium fills. Quinn is next to her on one side and Santana on the other. Finn has Beth in his lap (or 'Drizzle', as he calls her), which sucks because she wants to talk to him. Not about anything, just . . . to talk. Actually, she'd also love to play with Beth, but.

"I never realized this took so long," she mutters to Quinn, pulling out her phone to text Kurt, who's hanging out with his dad again.

"Patience, young padawan," Quinn murmurs back. Rachel shoots her an incredulous look, and gets a smirk in return.

The New Directions file in and sit near the front, wearing their show costumes. Finally the curtains rise and the home team begins performing.

Rachel picks Harmony out immiediately, the girl is in the center, signing lead. Rachel winces; not only is the NYADA-bound junior doing excellently, the song is Jessie J, a rip-roaring, high-powered dance number the judges always love.

Well there is something going down
Like the storm in the sky
I ain't gonna be played by your behavior
How can I trust someone who's lying to me, so

Bow out, go!
Now I said bow out, leave!
I said take your stuff and go,
'Cuz you're not for me
Mama knows best when times get hard
And papa always has a joke to make me laugh
Mama knows best when
I feel down, to bring me up
And always keep my feet on solid ground

"That's the girl?" Quinn whispers in Rachel's ear. She nods grimly. Harmony is totally flirting with the entire audience with those moves, and she's tearing up the song with ease.

See I ain't no old rag doll
That you can pick up and drop,
And all of this inconsistent love
I think it's time that it S.T.O stops

So bow out, go!
Now I said bow out, leave!
I said take your bags and go,
'Cuz you're not for me
Mama knows best when times get hard
And papa always has a joke to make me laugh
Mama knows best when
I feel down, to bring me up
And always keep my feet on solid ground

Ryder can't keep his eyes off her. It's like she's magnetic or something.

He can tell that Jake and Kitty, flanking him, are worried about him. But he really doesn't know how to reassure them. He's worried too.

Harmony leaps in the air, doing the splits, and an image of her wrapped in his arms, wearing that elegantly sexy dress and sighing lovingly in his ear while he kisses her neck, rises unbidden in his mind.

"I'll kick that bitch's ass for you after this is over, if you want," Kitty whispers to him, but he shakes his head.

"No need," he says calmly. "We're going to win."

Rachel holds up her phone, on Skype with Kurt, so he can watch as the curtain raises on the New Directions.

The first song is a hip-hop song, a risk that Rachel hadn't been so sure about when Artie and Sam produced their proposed setlist. But as soon as Artie, alone on the stage, starts rapping, the crowd goes wild.

When I was in the third grade I thought that I was gay
'Cause I could draw, my uncle was, and I kept my room straight
I told my mom tears rushing down my face
She's like "Ben you've loved girls since before pre-k tripping, "
Yeah, I guess she had a point, didn't she?
Bunch of stereotypes all in my head.
I remember doing the math like, "Yeah, I'm good at little league"
A preconceived idea of what it all meant
For those that liked the same sex
Had the characteristics
The right wing conservatives think it's a decision
And you can be cured with some treatment and religion
Man-made rewiring of a predisposition
Playing God, aw nah here we go
America the brave still fears what we don't know
And God loves all his children, is somehow forgotten
But we paraphrase a book written thirty-five-hundred years ago
I don't know

Rachel and Quinn and the rest of their row surge to their feet with the rest of the room as Tina, Sugar and Kitty sing the chorus.

And I can't change
Even if I tried
Even if I wanted to
I can't change
Even if I try
Even if I wanted to
My love
My love
My love
She keeps me warm
She keeps me warm
She keeps me warm
She keeps me warm

Sam is the next to appear on stage, taking over for Artie on the verse, with Joe taking the third and final verse.

If I was gay, I would think hip-hop hates me
Have you read the YouTube comments lately?
"Man, that's gay" gets dropped on the daily
We become so numb to what we're saying
A culture founded from oppression
Yet we don't have acceptance for 'em
Call each other faggots behind the keys of a message board
A word rooted in hate, yet our genre still ignores it
Gay is synonymous with the lesser
It's the same hate that's caused wars from religion
Gender to skin color, the complexion of your pigment
The same fight that led people to walk outs and sit ins
It's human rights for everybody, there is no difference!
Live on and be yourself
When I was at church they taught me something else
If you preach hate at the service those words aren't anointed
That holy water that you soak in has been poisoned
When everyone else is more comfortable remaining voiceless
Rather than fighting for humans that have had their rights stolen
I might not be the same, but that's not important
No freedom till we're equal, damn right I support it

(I don't know)

And I can't change
Even if I tried
Even if I wanted to
My love
My love
My love
She keeps me warm
She keeps me warm
She keeps me warm
She keeps me warm

Rachel and the others cheer until they can't breathe anymore, and from the sound of it, the rest of the audience is doing the same thing she is. Quinn notices her expression and laughs. "I know you've been waiting for this ever since you suggested it," she whispers as she takes Beth from Puck.

Rachel kisses the toddler's forehead, earning herself a beaming smile, and shrugs, grinning.

The lights fade on stage, then the music changes. Most of the audience already recognizes it; they hold their breath in anticipation.

As soon as Marley sings "This is the end," all husky but powerful, Rachel knows they've won.

Hold your breath and count to ten
Feel the earth move and then
Hear my heart burst again

For this is the end
I've drowned and dreamt this moment
So overdue I owe them
Swept away, I'm stolen

Let the sky fall
When it crumbles
We will stand tall
Face it all together

Let the sky fall
When it crumbles
We will stand tall
Face it all together
At skyfall
That skyfall

The rest of the club appears on stage, standing behind Marley as Unique steps forward to take the next verse. The audience is on its feet again.

Skyfall is where we start
A thousand miles and poles apart
Where worlds collide and days are dark
You may have my number, you can take my name
But you'll never have my heart

Let the sky fall (let the sky fall)
When it crumbles (when it crumbles)
We will stand tall (we will stand tall)
Face it all together

Let the sky fall (let the sky fall)
When it crumbles (when it crumbles)
We will stand tall (we will stand tall)
Face it all together
At skyfall

Unique has gotten much better, Rachel thinks to herself as she watches. The song ends with the club posing with their fingers shaped like guns, as the lights go down for the second time.

Artie and Blaine start the final song, the one they had picked to ensure their victory.

I be on my suit and tie, shit tie, shit tie
I be on my suit and tie, shit tie, shit
Can I show you a few things, a few things, a few things, little baby?
'Cause...
I be on my suit and tie, shit tie, shit
I be on my suit and tie, shit tie, shit
Let me show you a few things
Let me show you a few things

Wait a minute. You ready, AA?

Ryder and Jake dance with Brittany and Marley on either side of the stage as Artie sings the verse, grooving in his wheelchair. Rachel smiles as she watches Ryder match Brittany perfectly, step for step. Not because of skill so much as hard work and sheer willpower, she knows.

I can't wait 'til I get you on the floor, good-looking
Going hot, so hot, just like an oven
And I'll burn myself, but just had to touch it
But it's so fine and it's all mine
Hey baby, we don't mind all the watching, ha
Cause if they study close, real close
They might learn something
She ain't nothing but a little doozie when she does it
She's so fine tonight

And as long as I got my suit and tie
I'ma leave it all on the floor tonight
And you got fixed up to the nines
Let me show you a few things
All pressed up in black and white
And you're dressed in that dress I like
Love is swinging in the air tonight
Let me show you a few things
Let me show you a few things
Show you a few things about love
Now we're in the swing of love
Let me show you a few things
Show you a few things about love
Hey

If all that wasn't enough, Brittany and Ryder exchange places with Sam and Tina in a move so smooth it's almost like the two were dancing there the whole time, step to center stage and, together, they crush Jay-Z's verse.

All black at the white shows
White shoes at the black shows
Green card for the Cuban links
Y'all sit back and enjoy the light show
Nothing exceeds like excess
Stoute got gout from having the best of the best
Is this what it's all about?
I'm at the restaurant
My rant disturbing the guests
Years of distress, tears on the dress
Trying to hide her face with some make up sex
This is truffle season
Tom Ford tuxedos for no reason
All Saints for my angel
Alexander Wang too
Ass-tight Denim and some Dunks
I'll show you how to do this young!
No papers, catch vapors
Get high, out Vegas
D'usses on doubles, ain't looking for trouble
You just got good genes so a boy trying to cuff you
Tell your mother that I love her cause I love you
Tell your father we go farther as a couple

They ain't lose a daughter, got a son
I show you how to do this, huh, uhh!

After they accept the trophy, Ryder pulls his way from the cheering mass of bodies in the warm-up room and heads down the hallway.

He finds her outside the gym. The sun is a half-circle balancing on the horizon, turning the sky into a beautiful collage of pink and orange. She's sitting against the side of the gym, watching it.

He sits next to her silently. Harmony doesn't look at him. "Come to gloat?"

"Nope," he says calmly. "That would be ungentlemanly of me."

She stares into the sunset. "Are you fishing for an apology, is that it?"

"No. just an explanation, I guess. But I don't really need that either."

"Then why are you here?"

He shrugs. "You look like you needed a friend."

Her hands clench into fists.

Ryder hesitates. "And, honestly? I kind of can't stop thinking about you."

She laughs bitterly. "That's pathetic."

Ryder sighs. "Please, Harmony. You're not really as, like, aloof, as you think."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that I can tell you hate being a jerk to me."

"Oh really."

"Really."

"And how do you know that?"

"I just do."

She glares at the horizon.

"Will you just go away? You're annoying the crap out of me."

"Nope. Look, how do I put this? You're angry at me because you don't think you deserve someone to be nice to you, because you like targeted me so you could break my heart and like make me go crazy or something. It almost worked, by the way. But here's the thing – I forgive you. And because we know what happened."

"What do you mean?" she says coolly. He barely notices the tremor in her voice.

"Dude, we know who your coach is. It wasn't that hard; it was right there on the program they gave us at the front door."

She finally looks at him. Her gorgeous blue eyes are wide. "You just forgive me, is that it? Just like that?"

"Well . . . yeah." says Ryder, looking at her. "Besides, like I said . . . I kind of can't stop thinking about you. You could join us, you know. Transfer to McKinley. We'll take care of you. Come to Nationals with us."

"How touching," says a deep, cold voice. "But that's not going to happen."

Ten feet from them, a tall, handsome young man wearing an elegant black cloak is standing haughtily. Harmony springs to her feet. "Coach –"

"Jesse," says Rachel from behind the Coach of Goodetown High's Glee Club.

He whirls around dramatically. Rachel is standing with her arms crossed. Finn, Santana, Mercedes, Quinn and Puck are flanking her. Jesse St. James wilts slightly. "Oh, hello, Rachel. I didn't expect –"

Rachel punches him in the stomach. He hops around, clutching his middle and wheezing. Ryder and Harmony watch in bemusement.

"That's assault!" Jesse gasps out indignantly. "Just because you got into NYADA – "

"I'll give you motherfuckin' assault, cape boy," Santana says with a menacing gleam in her eye. Mercedes nods in agreement, cracking her knuckles.

Neither of them get the chance, however.

"ST. JAMES!"

Jesse twitches in fright. Rachel and the other graduates whirl about in surprise as Sue Sylvester, Becky at her heels, appears from within the auditorium.

The cheerios coach glares fiery death at the hapless singing coach. "You told me you could win, you cringing idiot! That you had a foolproof plan to defeat the Glee club, so that I could then destroy them once and for all!"

Rachel sighs. Quinn and Santana roll their eyes.

Jesse tries to point at harmony, muttering feebly, but Becky punches him in the stomach, doubling him over so she can grab his ear and haul him away as Sue shouts further deprecations and insults at him.

Rachel motions her friends away to give Ryder and harmony some privacy.

Ryder watches them all leave, then glances down at harmony, who is staring at the direction Jesse, Sue and Becky had taken with a lost look on her face.

He doesn't say anything, just offers her his arm. When she hesitantly accepts, the beginnings of hope stirring in her eyes, he feels his world start turning smoothly again.

Rachel glances over her shoulder at the two as they depart. She smiles. "They're going to be cute together," she says happily.

Finn glances back at them and agrees with her. She takes his hand with her right and Beth's tiny hand with her right, and squeezes.

Quinn takes her daughter's other hand and smiles wistfully at the sunset.

Rachel glances over at her. "You okay?"

Quinn looks surprised. "Yeah, absolutely. Why?"

Rachel smiles. "I don't know. Just making sure our world is still turning, I guess."

AN: Wow, done. Okay. Thanks for reading, everyone! Contrary to what you're probably thinking, I really do like Jesse . . . oh well. The songs featured in this story are:

Disturbia, by Rihanna; I Hate Myself For Loving You by Joan Jett & the Blackhearts; Hip Hop? by Hocus Pocus, Cooler Than Me by Mike Posner, Lego House by Ed Sheeran, Mama Knows Best by Jessie J, Same Love by Macklemore and Ryan Lewis feat. Mary Lambert, Skyfall by Adele, and Suit & Tie by Justin Timberlake feat. Jay-Z.

I own none of the rights to these songs, but i love them anyway. Enjoy them!

See you all next time. - Chalk