DAY FOUR: Monday

Somebody was going to snap sooner or later. Kurt knew that. There was too much pressure, too much at stake, for it not to happen. It really was a toss-up, he sometimes thought, who'd be the first: Dave or him.

It ended up being the last person he expected.

On Monday morning, Santana waylaid Kurt as he was going to the bathroom. The fact that the others were standing right behind her when she did raised all kinds of alarm bells. But he could do nothing to ease them — not with Santana in the lead, not with the somewhat frightening speed and strength with which she was dragging him to the dining room table by his wrist.

Fortunately, she got right to the point: "What can we do?"

"I told you, as the ringleader and the actual gay one here, I have to be the one to do most of the—"

"Bullshit," Santana spat. "Just because you're the only open resident of Gay Happy Rainbow Land here doesn't mean we can't pitch in."

The wording escaped Kurt at the time; he'd kick himself for that later. "No, but it does mean that I'm the most effective. I have life experience he can relate to. You don't. It's not that you're useless or anything, it's just that whatever you can say would sound more convincing coming from me—"

"I'm tired of sitting around and waiting for whatever happens," Santana interrupted. "If I'm gonna risk going to jail, I want some fucking control over whether it happens or not."

"Look, I think the risks are a lot lower now than they were in the beginning..."

"And that changes any of what I said how?"

"Santana kind of has a point," Mike said quietly, and was he the last one Kurt expected to speak up at this juncture. It was all too easy to think of him as a part of the scenery sometimes; he just wasn't loud or larger than life like most of New Directions. It was actually a little shameful. But he didn't have time to feel that shame or apologize to Mike — not right now. Later, after this was all over. "I mean, just doing nothing is driving me a little nuts. Besides, most of the problems Karofsky has is because of straight people. Shouldn't you have at least a couple of straight people to back you up when you say they're not all going to want to change him or persecute him?"

And... Huh, that was an interesting point. But still... "So what exactly do you want to do and say? No offense, but some of you aren't exactly known for tact or emotional support." He didn't name names, or even give any significant looks, but he didn't need to.

"We know we could be playing with fire," Santana said. "Like I've said all along, this isn't just about Karofsky anymore — this is about us too, so it's in our best interests to play nice with him. Anyway, who do you think really knows more about what makes Karofsky tick: you, or the three guys here who've been sharing a locker room with him all year?"

Another interesting point. Kurt stroked his chin thoughtfully. Maybe having other perspectives would increase the likelihood of success... "Okay," he finally said. "But not all at once; there's no sense overwhelming him. And for God's sake, think before you speak, please. And I'm not saying that because I don't trust you; it's because I've had some problems with that already." He hesitated; the others fixed him with almost comic attention. "And... thank you. For caring."

"I told you, that's what family does," Finn said with a shrug.

"I've got my reasons," Santana said.

"So do I," Puck said.

"I think you're doing a good thing here," Mike said. "Nobody should be forced into little boxes by anyone, especially not their parents."

And Kurt didn't have the emotional reserves to touch that statement; again, later. "Okay, so should we coordinate a plan of attack, or...?" The sound of the bedroom door creaking open behind him froze further words. Dave barely gave them the most passing of passing glances as he went into the bathroom. That was when Kurt was reminded that, oh yeah, he really did need to go. He cursed under his breath. Once the bathroom door was safely shut, he turned to the others. "Looks like we won't have much of a chance to coordinate. Try to follow my lead, and remember: only one of you at a time."

The others nodded solemnly. Kurt returned the nods, and turned back to the shut bathroom door; whether he was waiting for Dave or the bathroom to be available was a coin flip.

After Dave's usual breakfast in his room, his classmates waited, with varying degrees of patience and tension, for him to emerge once more. Weariness flooded over Kurt as he flopped down into the recliner, that closed door behind him foremost in his mind. This would be the absolute worst time for Dave to return to his former patterns, Kurt thought, but if he broke them once, he might again...

It was times like this that he almost wished he believed in prayer. At least it'd give him something to do.

Around half past ten, Dave reappeared, again in new clothing. All of Kurt's weariness immediately evaporated into fresh tension... or anticipation. Dave dropped his breakfast bowl into the sink, then turned. There, in the middle of the kitchen area, he hesitated; his eyes were flickering between the door and their general direction. It was indecision, that much was certain — but what was he debating? Whether to go outside again? Whether to go back into his room? Wild impulse brought Kurt to his feet. He had — had — to nudge Dave, right now, no matter what the cost.

"Dave," he said through a scratchy throat that he quickly cleared. Dave's attention finally focused, on him. "Mind joining us for a little while?"

Dave looked over his shoulder in askance at the others, all sitting on the couch or at the dining table. The calculating in his eyes was clear: he was concerned about being ganged up on. Just what Kurt was afraid he'd be afraid of. But in a sense, the others were right: they were here, they were involved, and they couldn't just ignore and be ignored forever. Not to mention the fact that they actually seemed to want to help (some surprising him more than others). So why not at least give them the opportunity? If they made a mistake... Well, it wasn't like it was impossible that Kurt would make more himself anyway, and they had time.

About a week, maybe a little more, at best... The pressure of the calendar suddenly squeezed at his chest.

"Um..." The sound wrenched his attention back fully onto Dave. His eyes were still darting about in indecision; Kurt had the distinct feeling that if some clear path of flight had existed, it would've been taken. As it was, Dave just looked... Lost? Helpless? Terrified? Some combination of the above, and more? It was hard to tell. Finally, he closed his eyes, let out a deep sigh, and said, "Okay. Fine." Only with those words completed did he open his eyes. "It's not like saying no is gonna get me out of here or make you leave me alone."

Kurt heard in Dave's voice a kind of practiced resignation. Just how out of control of his life did this boy feel? Was he exploiting his pain somehow?

If it'd get Dave closer to accepting himself and not going to that goddamn camp, he'd exploit everything and anything.

Kurt forced a small smile that he hoped was friendly. "We're not going to torture you, Dave. Come on." He dared to lay a gentle hand on Dave's forearm; he could feel the muscles stiffen underneath his fingers. It was surprisingly easy to lead Dave to the recliner, even as gentle as his nudging and tugging was. He watched as Dave lowered himself into sitting position like an arthritic grandfather. Kurt took a seat on the side of the sofa closest to Dave while Santana took the other side. Finn and Puck remained at the dining table, other than turning their chairs around, and Mike moved to the floor next to the coffee table.

Kurt was used to uncomfortable silences, but he'd never encountered such a pure example as the one that ensued. Museum-quality, it was.

Well, if he didn't do something, someone (Santana) would probably try to break the silence and tension by saying something snarky and ill-advised. But what to do? Maybe if the others wanted to get involved, maybe he had to lead them into it somehow...

Ah.

"You know," Kurt said, "that Finn and I haven't always been friends." He sneaked a glance at his stepbrother, and hoped. His hope was fulfilled; Finn's eyes widened, his mouth opening into a small "o." Yes, he definitely knew where Kurt was going with this. After a bare moment's hesitation, he gave a small nod. Fraternal love warmed his chest as he returned his attention to Dave. "I'm sure you remember; he went along with the rest of the football team in bullying losers and fags like me. Maybe he wasn't as enthusiastic as them, but he went along all the same."

"Yeah," Dave said with surprising bitterness. "I remember."

"He wasn't very... understanding of my sexuality, not for a long time. But look at us now. We live under the same roof. We're stepbrothers. He danced with me at our parents' wedding, in front of everybody. When I asked for help, he offered it without a second thought. My point is, Dave, people can change... That is, the people who need to change can change. They can let go of the hate and the fear. They can accept people for who they are."

"I was wrong, Karof— Dave," Finn said quietly, his head somewhat bowed. It was so perfect that Kurt might've assumed it was ginned up a bit for Dave's benefit if he didn't know that Finn wasn't capable of that type of emotional manipulation. "I guess I never met a lot of gay people before Kurt, but that's no excuse. I'm just sorry it took until I was the one getting Slushied to get it." He actually grinned at Dave at this point for some reason; Dave actually cracked a smile in response, again for reasons Kurt didn't understand. "But getting to know Kurt, living with him... It's really opened my eyes, man, seriously. I... I used to not even want to get close to him in public, 'cause I was afraid people would think I was gay too, but like he said... At our parents' wedding..."

"You remember what you guys said about glee club," Puck said. "What I said about it. I joined anyway, 'cause I figured I was too much of a badass for anything to happen to me. Well, I was wrong, and like Finn said, that was a real eye opener. I was worse than Finn..."

"Yeah, you were," Dave said.

"... But seriously, dude, you can't look at the way I am now and what I do and say that I'm still the same guy I was last year."

"People are capable of so much understanding and kindness," Kurt said gently. "And the ones who aren't... Why bother with them in the first place? Why do you have to change yourself to satisfy a bunch of bullies and bigots? As for your parents, as I told you, they probably just don't understand..."

"No, they don't," Dave said tightly. His hands were clutching the armrests of the recliner in a death grip; Kurt had no idea if this was a good thing or not. "Practically nobody does. So why the fuck should I be the one who puts myself out there? Why can't someone like you, who's braver and smarter—"

Kurt had little time to react to the implications before the explosion.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, I can't take this anymore!"

"Santana..."

"No, I'm sick of this! I'm sick of being scared!" Santana stood, stalking over to Dave. She towered over him; he cowered, despite being twice her size — but that was the only sane reaction. "I'm gay too, okay?" she practically snarled.

The room went dead silent. Even the air itself felt like it stilled.

"W-what?" one of the guys squeaked. Kurt couldn't see who it was; he was too busy staring up at Santana in dumb shock, just like everyone else.

"You're whining about how nobody understands? Well, I fucking understand, Karofsky. I understand what it's like to have everything and not want to lose it. I understand what it's like to be afraid of what your family and friends will think. I understand what it's like to look at out-and-proud fags like Hummel and wonder why this little fairy has more... more courage in his pinkie than you have in your entire body." She swallowed. "I know what it's like to have to hide, every single fucking day of your life, until you're completely exhausted and you're wondering if you'll have to do it forever, and if it's really worth it..."

"S-Santana..." Dave began. But if there was anything else he wanted to say, could've said, he didn't.

So Santana continued. "But... I've got something on the other side. Something... something good. And she... she makes me believe sometimes that all the shit that Hummel and you went through might actually be worth it for me." To Kurt's utter shock, perhaps even stronger than what he'd felt just seconds ago, she knelt in front of Dave, her face and voice free of sarcasm or artifice. It was a Santana he'd never met before. "There's something like that for you too, if you let it happen. But you've gotta let it happen, or nothing's ever gonna change."

"Wh-Wha...?" Dave was still as discombobulated as Kurt was, apparently. "Why... why do you...?"

Santana rolled her eyes. "Care? Because if you can do it, I can, duh! If you can figure out some way to get accepted after all the crap you've been through, then it'll be easier for me." It made sense, but Kurt wondered if even that was the whole story. But even considering that possibility led to far too deep a rabbit hole for him to dare to go further. "You just need to find that good thing on the other side. Then everything else gets easier."

"What if it doesn't exist?" Dave rasped.

"The world doesn't suck that bad, no matter how much you or I think it does. There's always something good somewhere." Her eyes flickered towards the floor. "She's living proof of that."

Suspicions were stirring in Kurt's mind on just who this "good thing" was, but Dave didn't allow him any time for conjecture. "Yeah, well, maybe if I just fix myself, I can find something good and avoid all the bad shit at the same time."

"Oh, really?" Santana said, standing, her voice hardening into something more resembling her usual self. "You actually still think you can do what I couldn't and 'fix yourself'?"

"Why not?"

"Okay, let's put that to the test, shall we?" Without further ado, or even asking permission, Santana straddled Dave's legs and began a slow, sensuous lap dance.

"Whoa..." That was definitely Puck's voice, hushed in awe.

"Santana..." Kurt began.

"Feel good, big boy?" Santana said softly and saucily, completely ignoring her peanut gallery. Her hands roamed up and down Dave's side, caressing his cheeks, as she swayed and bucked just millimeters from Dave's crotch. "This is what you want, isn't it? A beautiful woman, giving herself to you? Touching you... like that?" Kurt couldn't quite see where her hand went then, but Dave visibly twitched, and Puck gasped involuntarily. "I may be a big old lesbian, but I know how to please a guy. You know that. So, c'mon, Dave... How do I make you feel?" The last word was a harsh, teasing whisper directly into his ear.

"I..." Dave swallowed. "I... uh..."

Santana raised her eyebrows. "I'm not feeling anything from you... anywhere. What's the matter, Karofsky? Am I not doing it for you? Because if I don't do it for you, while I'm doing this..." She ground her hips into Dave's. Puck actually fell out of his chair.

"I... No!" Dave groaned. "I'm just... I'm just a little nervous..."

Kurt knew he should be stopping this. But there was something about the atmosphere — the tension — that froze him in his seat.

"Then let's try another little experiment." She turned her head, while her body remained practically squeezed against Dave's. "Mike, come here." Nobody moved. "I said, come here," she growled. Mike immediately scrambled to his feet and joined the two. "Sit down." He dutifully sat down next to the recliner with a puzzled look on his face. "Mike's going to hold your hand, okay?"

Dave's brow furrowed. "What...?"

At last, at least in Kurt's mind, things were becoming clear. Some part of him still yelled that this was dangerous, this wasn't the way... But indecision and inertia kept him seated and silent. Mike seemed to understand too. "Is it okay?" he asked quietly.

"I..."

"I'll take that as a yes," Santana purred. "Do it," she snapped at Mike, all pretense of sensuality and softness temporarily gone. Mike jumped, but nevertheless, he reached up and slipped his hand under Dave's. "Yeah, there you go," she said, her voice lowering again. "He's not going to do anything else. Just... that." Kurt wasn't sure who tightened their grip first, but he could see the two joined hands squeeze at each other. Unbidden, Mike lifted his other hand and gently placed it over the top of Dave's. All eyes were on those hands, including Dave's, as Santana once more rocked and rolled against Dave's flesh. "How about that? How does that feel?" Dave was still staring at his hand in Mike's; Kurt could hear his breaths deepen. "Think about how that makes you feel, holding a guy's hand. Can you really imagine learning not to like it? Can you really imagine learning to like what I'm doing more?" Dave's hand was visibly starting to shake, even within Mike's grasp. Santana leaned over and whispered into Dave's ear once more; the words were soft, but sharp, like a dagger. "Can you...?"

With a roar, Dave jumped to his feet. Santana cried out as she lost her balance, falling directly into Kurt's lap. Through the flailing flesh and flying hair, not to mention the sudden pressure against sensitive areas, Kurt was barely able to see Dave rip his hands out of Mike's and charge out of the cabin like a rhino.

"Dave!"

Kurt slid out from under Santana as best he could, but he still sent her tumbling to an undignified heap onto the floor. "Motherfuck—!" But he couldn't concern himself with her, with her outrage; he followed Dave out into the sun-drenched clearing.

Dave was screaming. He was kneeling in the middle of the clearing, and he was screaming at the sky, an anguished, animal-like cry of pain. He didn't seem to hear or notice Kurt as he approached, he was just screaming and screaming and...

Kurt knelt by his side. "Dave!"

The name — the single word — was like pricking a balloon. All at once, Dave seemed to literally wilt into Kurt's arms. His hands grabbed at Kurt's shoulders as heavy sobs wrenched out of him; Kurt could feel the tears soaking into his shirt. Kurt held onto Dave as tightly as he could, hair tickling his cheek as he listened helplessly to Dave's grief — grief for a life forever lost, for a comfortable world that was now forever changed.

Kurt was just barely able to look back towards the cabin; the others were standing huddled in the open door, watching, but not approaching. They seemed to sense the emotional minefield laid out before them, and they were smart enough not to dare it.

He didn't know how long Dave cried in his arms. He just knew that it was long enough to soak grass stains into his pants, and for the sun to heat his back until it felt like a griddle. But he didn't move, he didn't speak. He did the only thing necessary to be of any comfort to Dave.

He was there.

Finally, after what had to be hours (right?), Dave's wails subsided, his shoulders no longer shaking so much with violent hysteria. His tears became erratic, interrupted by sniffles and gulps of precious air. The death grip digging into Kurt's arms slackened, much to his relief. But still Kurt didn't move, didn't speak, not until Dave's face finally rose, and he saw a pair of blinking, watery, reddened eyes. "How do you feel?" Kurt asked gently.

"I... Shitty."

"I understand."

A gust of wind blew through the clearing, bringing with it some welcome cooling relief. Other than that, the rest of the world might as well have gone mute, for all Kurt's ears knew.

"Hey... Kurt?"

"Yes?"

"Um, can you... distract me?"

"Distract you? How?"

"I... I just need a little time to get my head on straight." He laughed, somewhat high pitched and hysterical. "Straight. That's funny."

"I still don't know how."

"Well... I told you a bunch of shit about me. You should return the favor."

Kurt blinked; even through the remnants of emotion in Dave's eyes, he could still see some modicum of strength, pride, sincerity. "Really?"

"Yeah. Maybe then I'll understand why you're doing this. Maybe then I'll understand why your life is so good."

My life... is good? But then, when he thought about it... Hadn't he mused in the past just how lucky he was? His friends could be self-centered and homophobic, but they could've been worse. There was still a gap of understanding between himself and his father that plainly bothered both parties, but their relationship, and he, could've been worse. He knew how much worse things could've been for him in Lima, Ohio. Usually, he saw only the room for improvement, but...

That didn't mean there was absolutely nothing there to appreciate.

So Kurt spoke. "Well... Once upon a time..."

A pained chuckle came out of Dave. "Seriously, dude? Really?"

"Roll with me here; this is kind of awkward for me."

"I'm in the middle of nowhere, hugging a guy after crying my eyes out. You think you feel awkward?"

"Granted, but it's my story, so let me tell it my way. Now... Once upon a time, there was a little boy who never liked what the other boys liked. He liked dancing. He liked tea parties. He liked colorful clothing and books with long words in them. Nobody understood him, not really. The closest he came were the parents who loved him, and one of them died while he was still young. As the boy grew up, he began to hear what others thought of him. He began to learn that what he liked wasn't what they wanted him to like. And for a long time, the boy was very confused. He knew what he liked. He knew what he wanted. But it felt like the entire world was telling him 'no.'

"So the boy went through life as best he could. His father eased his fears, even as he knew he couldn't fully connect to them. His friends rallied around him, even as he knew that they still carried what they'd been taught. But they were trying. They were all trying, for his sake. And the little boy, not so little anymore, learned what love really is. That gave him the strength to go on, every single day, and he honored those people by teaching others the same thing. He may not have had a happily ever after yet, but... it was good enough."

There was a pause — in the story? In the world? Kurt couldn't tell.

"That's... not a lot of detail."

"I told you, you're not the only one who feels awkward here. I need time too, you know."

"So... how does the story end?"

"I don't know."

"The little boy deserves a happy ending."

"Yeah... I think so too."

The rest of the afternoon passed in relative calm. None of the others so much as approached Dave, as if physically seeing how tender and fragile his emotions still were. Dave merely stayed in his room except to eat and use the bathroom — seemingly back to the old pattern, but this time, Kurt could sense that the old patterns in Dave Karofsky's head, his life, were irreparably altered.

When Dave went to bed that night, his fellow McKinley students silently gathered around the dining table, unplanned and unbidden. Santana crossed her arms, staring at him defiantly. The guys just looked... confused? Drained? It was hard to say; they seemed to have trouble just meeting anybody's eyes.

It looked like it was up to Kurt to start the ball rolling... again. "I know you're all concerned about Dave..."

"Not me," Santana snorted, although it sounded like she said it more out of obligation than any feeling.

"Hey, I'm gonna admit I am," Puck said. "Man, I didn't think the dude had that many tears in him! I didn't think anyone did!"

That said a lot — that said a hell of a lot. More than Kurt expected, anyway. There was a lot of story there, he knew, but he didn't mind knowing it for once. It was just enough that it was helping Dave. "Well, I think we made a kind of breakthrough. I think... I think the healing can finally start."

"You really think so?" Finn asked. "He looked... Shit, he looked... broken."

"I know. But this is a pretty big thing he's facing." He glanced towards Santana. "He's not the only one."

"Whatever," Santana grumbled, refusing to meet his gaze. That was probably for the best; he had his hands full enough dealing with one fellow gay teenager. Santana would have to wait her turn, after Dave's situation was less precarious.

"Anyway, I think he'll be more receptive now. This is where I think the rest of you can really contribute." That seemed to get the group's attention. "He probably thinks he's embarrassed himself or something. He could really use knowing that he has more support than just me. The only question is, are you willing to be that support for him?"

There was only the briefest of pauses.

"Yeah. Sure."

"I've come this far; I'm not backing out now."

"I made a promise. I'm gonna keep it."

"Eh, I guess."

Kurt had little idea where most of their motivation was coming from. Maybe he didn't need to know. All he knew was that he had it.

A little ember of hope deep in his chest began to glow even brighter.


DAY FIVE: Tuesday

Kurt liked to think of himself as... a ninja. Not literally, obviously (though those little sword-thingys they sometimes carried were kind of neat), but he always had a knack for stealth. Many was the time he scared the daylights out of his mother yelling "Boo!" from around some corner. Once he caught her with an entire basket of laundry. He was grounded for the rest of the weekend, but oh, man, was the sight of all those colorful t-shirts and underpants flying everywhere worth it!

As his sense of style improved, his ability to practice stealth waned; after all, the purpose of fashion was to be noticed. But, as he found out to his gratitude, he still had it.

The first was Santana, of course. She and Dave left the cabin together — well, more like slipped out after breakfast while everyone else was doing their own thing. Kurt, however, had been expecting something like this, and managed to follow at a discreet distance. It was betraying a level of trust, to be sure, but he had to make certain she didn't fuck anything up. Besides, he figured he'd already betrayed Dave's trust a little (guilt still wormed in him for that, even though he knew there was nothing else he could've done), and he couldn't really bring himself to give a damn over Santana.

She led him down one of the hiking trails; Kurt would've cursed her for that if he wasn't pretty sure that Dave was beyond the point of wanting to escape. He watched from behind trees, feeling that old thrill from childhood, until they'd hiked deep into the serene forest. They found a fallen tree to sit on, and there, they talked.

"You too, huh? All this time?" Dave said.

"Yeah."

"And all those guys you slept with..."

"Figured it would help me find 'the right guy'," Santana said with an overly casual shrug. "And if I didn't, it'd help me hide. Win-win." She looked over at Dave thoughtfully. "I should've figured you out a lot sooner. Guys who climb up the social ladder like you did would usually take advantage of it and date a lot more. Or at least make out with every willing girl he could get his hands on." Dave just snorted absently. Santana fell silent again (this was the least he'd heard her talk ever) and the two stared out into the trees for a while.

It took a while (a while during which Kurt had to rub a cramp out of his bent right leg) for someone to speak again — in this case, Dave. "This is fucking weird."

"I know."

"You're not being bitchy for once. As bitchy, I mean."

"I'm as surprised as you are. I guess I kinda... relate to you. I mean, I'm sure not gonna relate to Hummel." Dave chuckled, which made Kurt seethe a little inside. "His Indian name may be Dances With Unicorns, but he sure doesn't know what it's like to actually have popularity and reputation, and... and want to keep it." Kurt still seethed, even as a goodly part of him acknowledged that she did have a point.

"At least he's trying," Dave muttered. Thank you, David. "It's a hell of a lot more than anyone usually does."

"That's because every day, everything we do is telling people that we don't need anyone," Santana said, sounding as thoughtful as Kurt had ever heard her, even as venom crept into her voice. "Because we're badass, and we're royalty in that goddamn hellhole of a school, and we've got everything under control."

Dave glanced at her, startled. "... Yeah."

"I have no idea how my parents would react." Kurt didn't know which of the three of them was more surprised by the abrupt shift in topic, and by Santana, no less. Maybe there were just so many things running around in her head, now that she had even half of a chance to express them to someone in no position to judge her, she couldn't hold it back anymore. No wonder she was such a bitch all the time. Well, that and the fact that she just was a bitch. "But my abuela... my grandmother... The more I think about it, the more afraid I get of what she'd say. Not because she's a big conservative or anything, but she's a good Catholic, and fucking reputation means everything to her. A granddaughter who sticks out by being an open lesbian would shame her, and shame her a fuckton more than a granddaughter who sleeps around with guys." She shook her head. "And I actually care about what she thinks. Maybe I shouldn't, but I do. She's... she's my grandmother, and if I shame her by just existing..."

Dave's arm rose, as if he were about to put it around her shoulder, but he seemed to think better of it and put it down. Probably smart. A vulnerable Santana was unpredictable, rather like a stray cat.

"Bet you thought you were the only one with your stupid and petty problems, didn't you, Karofsky?" Santana continued with a vein of bitterness that was so forced, it was almost funny. Her arms were tightly woven over her chest, as though she were hugging herself. "Well, you're not. You're not some beautiful and unique snowflake. You're just one of a hundred thousand kids with the same fucking story. Fuck, I'll bet you could talk to any one of 'em, and they'd hear exactly what they were going through from you. Then the two of you could cry on each other's shoulders over how miserable you are."

Well. That was a point Kurt had forgotten to make thus far, but leave it to Santana to put it in that way. "Okay," Dave said. It might have seemed to some like a non-sequitur reply, but Kurt had a feeling that all three listeners knew exactly what was not being said.

"Fine." Santana rose; both Dave and Kurt did the same. "I'm sick of the woods. There's way too many mosquitoes, and the shower at the cabin sucks ass compared to mine."

"That's the thanks we get for letting you use all the shelf space in the bathroom?"

"Fuck you, I need that space. Unlike Kurt, who thinks his forty dollar skin cream actually does a fucking thing for him..."

Kurt stifled his simmering outrage (Did she not pay attention to what his face looked like before? That cream was a godsend. A godsend.) and hurried back down the trail ahead of the other two. He was back in the cabin, having a nice glass of iced tea, when Dave and Santana stepped in, casual and silent as if they'd just been taking a stroll. He didn't so much as glance in their direction.

As it turned out, it was a busy day. Finn was next. He actually tapped Dave on the shoulder after lunch on his own initiative and said quietly, "Hey, man, can we talk about something?"

The two went into Dave's room. This time, Dave closed the door all the way, but Kurt thought quickly, and was relieved to find out that he could hear them just fine from outside the window. (Once again, that thrill of stealth. It was kind of heady.)

"... You know how much Kurt is risking doing this, right?"

"Yeah. I have no idea why, though." There was a pause. "No, he told me why, but I still don't fucking believe it."

"That's just the kinda guy he is." He could almost hear the shrug in Finn's voice.

"What about you? Why did you go along with this?"

"Because he's my brother now. And 'cause he's my friend."

"But... you used to bully him too."

"... Yeah, I know. And I still regret it. I didn't know, then. I didn't know what kind of guy he is. All I could see was... was the gay, y'know?"

"... I know exactly what you mean."

"Shit, yeah, I'm sorry..." There was another pause. "What?"

There was a hint of a laugh in Dave's voice. "You apologizing to me... It's kinda funny."

"What...? Oh. That. Look, dude..."

"I don't want to hear it."

"No, seriously, I'm—"

When Dave broke it, it was with a tone that Kurt, at least, did not expect. "No, what I meant is that none of this is your fault. Seriously. You're not the only one who made fun of me in school. You were just... I dunno, one more brick in the wall, I guess."

"... Is that any better?"

"A little, I suppose."

"So... are we..."

"Cool? I... Maybe. I mean, I really didn't buy that you'd changed at all, even after joining the glee club, until now. Just the fact that you went along with this, for me and for Kurt, even though you could've ended up in serious trouble..."

"Yeah." Yet another pause. This one went on for longer before Finn spoke again. "You know... if Kurt can forgive me... he can forgive you too."

"I guess," Dave said after a long pause, with a weird tremor in his voice that frankly confused Kurt. "Makes it easier that he already kinda got his revenge."

"Look, man, I'll bet that if we asked Kurt, he'd say he regrets ever saying anything." And Finn was right.

"Seriously? Even if that meant me keeping on creeping on him and harassing him?"

"If it helps, he'd probably say that at least then, he could blame just you for anything bad that happened, and it wouldn't be his fault at all." Right again. Huh, maybe there was something to this sibling bond thing after all.

"... Yeah. I just... Like I said, he's told me why, but I still can't believe it. I can't believe that I... That he'd want to help me at all, even if he does feel guilty."

"Like I said, that's just the kinda guy he is."

"Yeah. I'm getting that."

With that, Kurt left. Not that he wasn't interested, but he was starting to get a little too into the secret ego-stroking.

About an hour and a half after Dave and Finn emerged from the bedroom, Puck snatched up his football, clapped Dave on the shoulder, and cocked his head silently towards the door. Dave just as silently nodded, rose, and followed.

This time, Kurt went into Dave's room and opened the window a crack. It gave him a perfect vantage point, and sound carried easily across the clearing, all without being seen himself. It took a while to get to anything more interesting than grunting and "Nice catch," and Kurt was starting to nod off. But he snapped completely awake when Puck finally said more than a couple of words.

"You know why I'm here?"

Dave caught the football an instant before he answered. "Not really."

"Well, they said they needed me. 'Cause I'm the muscle, and the convicted criminal, y'know?"

"Makes sense, I guess."

"But that's why they wanted me to come. That's not why I wanted to come."

"So why did you?" Dave tossed the football back to Puck. This time, it looked like Puck actually had to make an effort to catch it. That was Kurt's first hint.

"Being in the glee club... It's really been a trippy experience."

"I can tell. I never did figure out why you did, after all the time you spent pushing 'em around and making fun of 'em."

"That's... kinda hard to explain. But once I was in... Man, actually being good at something... Besides sports, I mean, 'cause everyone figured I'd be good at that... It was unbelievable how performing felt. It was like making a play out on the field, except a hundred times more intense..." Puck tossed the football up and down in his hands thoughtfully, his eyes unfocused and faraway. "Working together with the others... That was just as trippy, because while they were kinda like what I thought they'd be, they were also way better people than I thought they'd be."

"Bet it didn't hurt that you were on the receiving end of what you used to dish out for once." There was a surprising note of bitterness in Dave's voice. Kurt had little idea of what Dave or Puck were like before high school — again, not exactly the same circles, and there wasn't quite the same integration and interaction between cliques and classes as high school — but he had enough to have at least a vague sense of where he was coming from.

Instead of making a flip remark, Puck, as far as Kurt could see from this distance, actually grimaced. "Yeah, that's the thing. See... I couldn't be in the glee club and still be an alpha jock asshole at the same time. It just wasn't possible. So now that I'm on the other side of it, I've been kinda thinking about shit I did before, and..." The ball stilled in Puck's hands. "I was a real asshole to you. I was the one who got Finn to tell everyone about your pubes in fifth grade."

"Like I said to Finn, you weren't the only one," Dave said in a mildly strained voice.

"I wasn't the only one to tease you, or you weren't the only one I teased?"

"Both."

"Yeah. But one thing I've learned the past year is that the shit you do has consequences. Like with Quinn. With you. With what happened after I joined glee. With juvie. I mean, it'd happened before with other stuff, but all that crap all at once... It really stuck this time."

There was a much longer pause this time, as if the two boys outside were playing verbal chicken. Kurt rested his chin on his hand and drummed on the table with his fingers.

"So..." Dave finally said, "this means you're here because...?"

"Yeah. This is my way of trying to make up for some of that shit."

"I'm your penance now, is that it?"

"Why not?" Puck said with a shrug. "This is something that could actually do something good for someone else, and I did shit to you in the past. So why shouldn't I start here, right now, with you?"

"So this is an apology too."

"Kinda."

"I don't know if I want to accept."

"That's your right. I didn't expect you to, anyway, and it's not like anything's actually happened yet. I just thought... I dunno, I guess I wanted you to know that I'm here because I want to be. Because even if I never get out of Lima, I don't have any right to drag anyone down with me."

"Yeah..." Dave said, "that's something I had to learn myself."

With that, Kurt got up and left. It didn't feel right to listen anymore.

But he did listen again, later, mostly because he couldn't help it. It was after dinner. Finn was in the shower, Santana was in her room, Puck was listening to music, and Kurt was washing dishes. That left Mike and Dave still at the dining table.

"How're you doing?" Mike asked.

Dave pushed the remnants of his ham steak around on his plate. "I dunno. I guess I'm still kind of in shock."

"I can see that."

Kurt could almost feel the two glance in his direction; he quickly pretended to be distracted by the suds and the grease and the squeak of his rubber gloves. No way to excuse himself without it becoming awkward (excuse himself to where, anyway?), so might as well give them as much space as he could.

"I'm kinda surprised," Dave finally said.

"At what?"

"You. Doing this. This is serious shit that you could still get into a lot of trouble for. I always figured you as... well..."

"A goody two shoes? Perfect student, perfect teammate, perfect son?"

"Well, yeah, but why are you saying that like it's a bad thing? You never gave me any grief, either, before... Well, before."

"My dad says that I'm gonna do great and important things when I become a doctor." If Dave was as startled at the apparent shift in topic as Kurt was, he heard no sign of it. "Save people's lives."

"Lemme guess: you don't want to be a doctor."

Mike snorted. "Is it that obvious? I guess I can't hide it everywhere, all the time."

"So what are you gonna do?"

"I... don't know yet." Mike sighed. "But if I'm not gonna be a doctor, I still want to do great and important things. I still want to save people if I can."

"And you think I need saving?" There were strange shades to Dave's voice that Kurt wasn't sure even Dave understood.

"I think you're important enough to save."

"... Why?"

"Because you're Dave Karofsky." Dave laughed. "What?"

"You sound like Ms. Pillsbury, dude."

"But am I wrong?" Kurt could almost feel the answer straining to burst free, but it never came. "If I can't be true to myself," Mike said in a near whisper, "someone should be able to."

"I'm not your proxy, Chang. I'm not your responsibility."

"Yeah, you're not my proxy. But my mom always told me something I thought was kind of lame, but I've found it to be true: other people are our responsibility. No matter who, no matter when. Otherwise, the world really does suck."

The thoughtful silence that ensued was broken by Finn lumbering out of the shower. Kurt quickly returned his attention to finishing the dishes.

Once more, after Dave went to bed, the others gathered around the dining table without being asked. Kurt looked at each of his classmates in turn, wondering how much he should say, how much he should indicate he knew. When he found his words, he took a deep breath and said, "I think it's really important that Dave knows he's not alone in this. I think the more people he knows who'll not demand he change to please them, the less likely he is to make that choice, even — especially — if it's people he doesn't think would stand by him. The better his self-esteem, the better the chances that he'll not want to change himself, and having a support system is vital for that."

He wanted to go on, but couldn't find any more words, not without giving away his spying (and Santana, at the least, would not be pleased). But maybe he didn't need more words; the others just nodded.

Maybe... Just maybe... This whole screwy plan was going to work out...?