gleebles A/N; Welcome back, friends! :) Here is the sequel I promised you all! Please read the author's note at the end of this chapter for updating information. However, I'd like to dive right back into our story here, so, just like Within the Cinderblocks started...

Let's begin!

Prologue
"Recover"

We will recover,
The worst is over now.
All those fires we've been walking through,
And still we survive, somehow.
We will recover,
The worst is behind,
And it hurts, but in time, I know that we will recover.

Finn Hudson

Finn sniffed the air and could smell something burning. His eyes grew wide and he immediately dropped the knife he was holding and scrambled over to the toaster.

"Shit!" he cried when he saw the smoke swirling above the appliance. Finn immediately unplugged it, hoping to salvage part of Kurt's dinner, and two pieces of dark brown toast popped up. He groaned and wondered to himself if Kurt would eat it. Finn certainly would, but Kurt was usually pickier.

Kurt lived in the basement. Yes, his room was downstairs and that's where he slept, but Kurt literally lived in the basement. He sustained a major concussion from when Ron, one of the gunmen from the school shooting, had struck him with his firearm three times. Out of the concussion came a bought of short-term memory loss, stuttering, inability to sleep, and, the worst of all, migraines. Hideous, excruciating, incapacitating migraines that forced Kurt into a pitch-black basement, his body curled in a tight ball, and clamping a pillow over his head. It had been a week and a half since the shooting and, since he had a bed and a bathroom downstairs, he hadn't ventured to the first floor even once. Thus, the family took turns making Kurt breakfast, lunch, and dinner, though Finn made Kurt snacks all the time.

He had become increasingly more protective of his stepbrother and Kurt seemed to benefit from it, which only fueled Finn's fire to overwhelm him with kindness and vigilance.

"Here, Kurt," Finn whispered when he approached Kurt's bed and he turned on the lamp on the bedside table. Carole had purposefully purchased a lamp with a low light setting for when Kurt showered, ate, and for any other circumstance which required a light. Kurt shifted in his bed. "I made you an egg sandwich with whole wheat bread, low-fat mayonnaise, egg, cheese, and tomato. Is that okay?"

"Sounds g-great, Finn," Kurt croaked, sitting up in bed. He squinted and his eyebrows came together. He moaned.

"Want some medicine?" Finn wondered, placing the plate on the table and adjusted Kurt's pillow.

Kurt shook his head and picked up the plate, bringing it to his lap. Finn smiled happily when Kurt took a bite and thanked him for his dinner.

"It's nothing," Finn whispered and then turned to the Ipod on the bookshelf across from Kurt's bed. "What do you want to listen to?"

"Yiruma," Kurt spoke through a mouthful of food.

When Finn had discovered Kurt could listen to music on low, he scoured the Internet for soothing piano music and found the pianist Yiruma. It was basically all Kurt listened to now.

Finn began the playlist and turned back to Kurt who was eating with his eyes closed.

"Anything else I can get you?"

Kurt swallowed.

"Can I g-get something to drink?" he asked.

"I brought you milk," Finn gestured to the side table and Kurt opened his eyes to glance at the side table.

"Is it—?"

"It's skim," Finn assured and Kurt, although in great pain, smiled up at him.

"Thanks Finn."

"Not a problem," Finn reminded and picked up Kurt's dirtied plate from lunch. "Get some rest."

"I will. Thanks again."

Finn smiled to himself and climbed the stairs. He didn't even mind cleaning up the kitchen after making Kurt's dinner. He was making a difference and helping Kurt's recovery, which gave him every reason to smile.

Quinn Fabray

"I'm going to the candlelight vigil on Friday," Quinn spoke, and ran her fingers through her short Pixie cut. She cut her hair a week after the school shooting.

"That's good of you," Mr. Wilson smiled. Mr. Wilson, Quinn's therapist, had been seeing her for two weeks now. "Are you nervous to see all your classmates again? Especially ones who knew you were in the classroom with the gunman?"

Quinn pursed her lips in thought.

"Yes," she nodded. "I am, but I think it's more important to honor Rory than to worry about what someone will say about me. Don't you think?"

"I absolutely think so," Mr. Wilson agreed and then gave Quinn a bright-eyed smile. "Quinn, I have to tell you, I'm so proud of the way you're handling this. People react in various ways after a major event like this, but you're doing a great job. You aren't holding back and you're voicing your worries. At this rate, I think you'll be ready to return to school when it reopens at the end of February."

Quinn smiled serenely.

"It's cleansing to talk about it aloud. I feel rejuvenated every time I leave your office," a soft look graced her features. "I think I'll be ready too."

Artie Abrams

It was chilly outside McKinley High, and Artie pulled his fleece jacket closer when a gust of wind blew past him. He shivered and then looked up at the school.

It was the middle of February and they had been on break for three weeks, but the school was scheduled to reopen one month exactly after the shooting. The school shooting took place on a Tuesday.

Artie shivered again when he glanced down at his phone. Today was Tuesday. He had one week exactly. One week and Artie would be rolling down the hallway of McKinley once again. He closed his eyes.

God, why had Mike been in the hallway with Artie when Ray, Ron, and Charlie exited their classroom? Why did he react so quickly and literally take a bullet for him? His damn legs didn't work anyway…

Artie sighed, opened his eyes again, and peered over at his school.

One month wasn't enough time.

Mike Chang

"How about some leg lifts first?" Betty asked Mike and Mike gave a forced smile.

"Let's do it," he agreed and gripped the sides of the table firmly. He straightened his leg out and then slowly lifted his leg in the air. There was a dull throbbing in his upper thigh that he pointedly ignored.

"Any discomfort?" Mike's physical therapist asked, her hand hovering under Mike's shin in case his muscles gave out.

"Not much," Mike spoke through gritted teeth, but with a sharp stab in his thigh, he quickly lowered his leg into Betty's hand. "Damn…"

"It's okay," Betty's lilted voice sounded. "Let's try again, slower this time."

Mike gave a resigned huff and responded to his physical therapist's encouragement.

His body wasn't bouncing back like it normally did after an injury and it was more frustrating than Mike could've ever imagined. He relied on his mobility for everything and had molded his entire future based solely on his ability to dance, but now he couldn't even walk without crutches let alone isolate a backhand spring.

He narrowed his eyes and willed his leg to elevate and lower like it was supposed to. Mike was a passive person; he didn't often fight for things if it was going to cause trouble for him or others.

But he would fight to dance.

Noah Puckerman

Puck yawned widely. It was two o'clock in the afternoon and he had just woken up.

Thank God for this break, he thought to himself and scratched his crotch lazily while scanning the contents of his refrigerator. It was Thursday; the school reopened in four days and Puck wanted to cry at the thought. He was going to make the rest of his break count.

Drinking milk straight from the carton, he turned to the counter next to the refrigerator and began flipping through the mail. Bills…bills…magazine subscription…and—oh.

Puck lowered the carton and furrowed his eyebrows. There was a letter addressed to him.

He froze when he glanced at the upper left corner.

It read: Lima County Jail.

Puck hesitated before his curiosity peaked and he began to open the letter. When he unfolded the parchment inside, he was faced with only five words: Did you learn your lesson?

There was a long moment where Puck simply stared at the words, unsure if the words had any affect on him at all or if they had numbly stunned him.

Then, he balled it up and threw it in the trashcan.

Tina Cohen-Chang

It was Friday night.

Tina stepped in front of her full-length mirror and exhaled shakily. She smoothed her hands over her skirt self-consciously and then worried her bottom lip between her teeth.

She couldn't remember who decided to hold the candlelight vigil, but whoever it had been must've known and cared Rory. Tina supposed she was lucky that she hadn't known him better or this night could've been painful. Although with gratefulness came immediate guilt. They had been in the same club for crying out loud and Tina could hardly remember what his last name was.

She closed her eyes briefly before staring back at her all-black ensemble. She may have changed her look since freshman year, but she hadn't thrown out her black. No, it stayed in the back of her closet and tonight she dressed in a black blouse, skirt, tights, high heels, and a birdcage veil. It was odd to step back in time, but Tina didn't find herself minding much.

It was appropriate after all.

Kurt Hummel

Nearly three hundred people had shown up for the candlelight vigil on the front lawn of McKinley High. Although pitch black outside, the entire circle glowed with hundreds of flickering candles as a pastor read from a Bible in the center.

"The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the stronghold of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?"

Kurt stared at the candle in his hands and his head gave a nasty throb. The quivering lights had caused an almost instantaneous ache, but he ignored it.

He glanced to his right and watched as Blaine listened to the priest who stood next to a large portrait of Rory. Blaine's eyes glowed a beautiful, rich honey color from his own candle. However, the longer Kurt looked, he began to take notice of the strange dazed film that clouded Blaine's vision. Maybe he wasn't listening to the prayer after all.

Kurt slipped his hand into Blaine's and gave a tight squeeze and frowned when it was not returned. He wanted to say something, but decided he'd wait until a more appropriate time to address his boyfriend's inattentiveness.

There was a blessing from the priest and then several acknowledgments of love, guilt, and loss from the students. After Quinn murmured out her thanks to Rory, Mr. Schuester spoke up.

"Mr. and Mrs. Flanagan are here and want to say a few words to you all."

Kurt's eyes widened as he looked across the circle and saw a couple emerge from the wall of students. Mrs. Flanagan was short and plump with a black slacks, shirt, and sweater. Her hair was a mousy brown and there were tissues in her hand.

"Rory decided to come to America about a year ago," she spoke out in a thick Irish accent. "When he told me he wanted to experience what this country had to offer, I didn't want him to go. He was my baby, you know? I didn't want him to be lost or confused or…alone. But he was stubborn as an ox," she giggled a watery laugh and Mr. Flanagan wrapped an arm around her.

He was tall, probably 6'7", and wore glasses that sheathed bright blue eyes, nearly identical to Rory's.

"He was brave though," he assured and Kurt jumped at how similar his and his son's voices were. "He kept us updated and assured us of how well he adjusted to life in Lima, Ohio. He loved the friends he made and the Glee club he joined."

Mercedes, Quinn, Sam, Santana, Finn, Puck, Mike, Tina, and Rachel all shared an uneasy glance.

"May I ask," Mrs. Flanagan spoke aloud again, "is a boy named Kurt Hummel here tonight?"

Kurt froze on the spot and the crowd broke out into hushed whispers and they craned their heads to get a good look at Kurt. He remained immobile for quite sometime until Finn gently pushed him forward. Kurt found himself briefly and stepped out of the ring only to have three hundred pairs of eyes bore through him.

"Kurt," Mrs. Flanagan smiled at him, "we heard what you did for our boy. We know you tried to keep him brave and then keep him alive. You went back for him and refused to let him stay in that school alone. Although we grieved and are still grieving, our hearts warmed at the thought that he had such a great friend to help him through it. Thank you, Kurt."

Kurt was shaking by the time Mrs. Flanagan had finished, the candle spilling wax over the grass at his feet. Guilt washed over him and tided him over when Rory's parents came forward and gave him a tight hug.

He couldn't save Rory. Rory died no matter what Kurt tried to do and here his parents were, thanking him.

"We talked about you both," Kurt exhaled breathlessly when they released him. "We talked about our parents and I could just tell you both meant the world to him."

Mr. and Mrs. Flanagan smiled, but then Mrs. Flanagan dissolved into tears. Her husband gathered her in his arms and Kurt felt another pang of guilt spiral in him.

His head began to ache.

Santana Lopez

"We have one day to find the perfect back-to-school outfit for you," Brittany said with a smile on her face, flicking through the racks. They had been shopping in Belk after Brittany nearly forced Santana out of her house. "Kurt told me once that fashion is the key to happiness and I want you to be happy when we go back to McKinley. How do you want to look? What about naughty schoolgirl? Oh my God," Brittany picked up a hideous XXL Christmas sweater on clearance for $3.99. "Lord Tubbington would look great in this."

Santana hummed vaguely at her girlfriend and crossed her arms tightly. Brittany lowered the sweater and then placed it back on the rack.

She cocked her head at Santana.

"Are you okay?" she asked and nearly immediately Santana burst into tears. Brittany, her eyes widening, stepped toward and opened her arms.

Santana launched herself into them and gripped the front of her girlfriend's shirt tightly.

"I don't want to go back," she whispered in fear. "I don't want to..."

Blaine Anderson

The Anderson household was huge, expensive, and immaculate. Tom was a businessman and Margaret was the financial consultant so they could afford to have a luxurious home. Without their income, Blaine would've never been able to transfer to Dalton.

They were all seated in the dining room where the shining mahogany table held a glass bowl of salad, two dishes of mash potatoes and green beans, a cutting board with sizzling pork, and a basket of steaming rolls. Tom, Margaret, and Blaine all ate away while Blaine's parents discussed something about Cooper and his newest girlfriend.

"She seems very sweet," Mrs. Anderson said, patting the corners of her mouth with her napkin. "Although it worries me that she's a model. I just hope she has her head on her shoulders."

"Cooper can handle himself, I'm sure," Tom smiled, sipping on his glass of red wine. "If she's not good for him, he'll realize it. Eventually."

They laughed at Blaine's brother for he wasn't the brightest kid in the world.

"Blaine," Margaret asked, "are you ready for school tomorrow?"

She tore a piece of bread and raised it to her lips, but hesitated when Blaine hadn't responded.

Blaine wasn't eating. He was staring at the middle of the table, his head bowed and his eyes glossed over.

"Blaine?" his mother called out, but there was again no response.

"Blaine!" Tom called out loudly and suddenly Blaine started.

"Sir?" he asked, looking startled at his father.

His parents stared at him.

"Your mother asked you a question," Tom filled him in.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" Mrs. Anderson asked, looking at him with concern. "Are you feeling sick?"

Blaine shook his head and his face constructed an even, calculated expression.

"No, I'm fine."

"Are you ready for school tomorrow?" she asked again.

Blaine picked up his spoon and nodded.

"Blaine," his father warned.

"Yes ma'am," Blaine responded and took a bite of mashed potato.

Rachel Berry

Rachel hummed to herself as she brushed her bangs. It was about 6:30 AM and she had already worked out, eaten breakfast, showered, changed, curled her hair, and applied her makeup.

It was like the first day of school all over again and Rachel for one was extremely excited for things to go back to normal.

She laid her brush down on her vanity and practiced her smile in the mirror.

Some people would be frowning today, but Rachel would make sure to have a smile on her face.

Mercedes Jones

Mercedes walked into McKinley High and inhaled sharply. There was a banner as soon as she entered the school that read, "Welcome Back Students." Under the sign, there was a single word spelled out in red spray paint.

BANG

Mercedes immediately fisted the end of the banner and tore it from the ceiling. Her heart was thundering in her chest as she collected the fabric and then tossed it in the corner. Other students watched her and most of them looked impressed and grateful.

'What is wrong with people?' Mercedes thought to herself and continued down the hallway. She passed by Quinn who flashed her a brief smile that she tried to reciprocate convincingly.

She passed the choir room to get to her locker and as she did, her heart picked up speed and her heart fluttered dangerously in her chest.

"I can do this," Mercedes murmured to herself as she reached her locker. "I can do this."

Sam Evans

Sam yanked open the front door to McKinley and took off down the hallway in a way one can only describe as stomping. His hands gripped the straps of his backpack and his eyes narrowed at anyone who glanced his way.

He continued throughout the school like that, heading to his classroom, when suddenly something caught his eye.

Sam's steps faltered and he stopped in the middle of the hallway. His eyes trailed over to the red square on the wall and he felt something heavy fall into the pit of his stomach.

Then, he reached over and pulled the fire alarm.

gleebles A/N; PLEASE READ BELOW!

So first off, I was in the middle of writing chapter three of this story when my computer freaked out and then shut off. Turns out I lost everything except this and the outline (Thank God.) so updating will be somewhat sporadic.

I was so frustrated, but I decided to post this now because the other one ended not too long ago and I want the story to stay fresh in the reader's mind. I'm sorry that updating will be slower than the first one, but know that I'm doing my best!

Let me know what you think and thanks for reading! :)

- gleebles