Two weeks later, the TARDIS still wouldn't fly, the Doctor still didn't know who was dosing the slushies, Will was still concerned about Ken and Emma, and the glee club was still trying to get ready for sectionals. At least he knew what was going on with everyone's musical affinity now; the chemical cocktail was maturing the growth of the primary auditory cortex, the part of the brain responsible for tone, notes, and for music appreciation. What he couldn't figure out was how the dose was getting there to begin with. Other area convenience stores had the same drinks, but nothing amiss about them. Even a fresh sample taken right from the delivery truck was unaffected. That meant someone was inserting the chemical mix after the drinks got to the school, and the Doctor was going to find out who.

He felt slightly bad about the whole slushie thing, though, because even though he had to find out why someone was doing this and what they hoped to gain, it was kind of a shame to shut down this kind of talent. Maybe the musical appreciation would stay the same, he thought. He hoped so. Anyone who was already affected would be the same for the rest of their life; the abnormal brain development was permanent. But maybe the musical well of talent would find a way to continue. Probably not as good as it was now, with the show choir's performances rivaling a Broadway musical for quality, but if there was one thing the Doctor had learned never to do, it was underestimate humans.

He had already decided that no matter what he found, even if there were aliens and monsters, if he could at all allow it without anyone dying, he was going to let things continue through sectionals. He wanted answers, not to pull the rug out from under the glee club right before the big day. And truth be told, he was honored to be going with them. Will had disqualified himself from the competition by accepting the gift of firm inner springs and lumbar support, and now it was up to the Doctor, co-director, to oversee the trip to sectionals. It was astounding, and not entirely unwelcome, to be so involved in their lives.

The Doctor was used to coming in and solving problems within a few days' time. He'd never spent this much time with anyone save his companions and the Brigadier and UNIT back in his third regeneration. And although time was incredibly boring the long way around, he was enjoying a change of pace. There was excitement to be found if he looked hard enough for it. He'd destroyed computer viruses on Emma's PC, increased the T1 throughput into the school by 4%, helped the physics teacher Mr. Langley demonstrate general relativity with a bowling ball and a cricket bat, and gone toe to toe with Sue Sylvester.

Now it was time to confront the cheer coach again. The self imposed deadline had just passed. Now it was time to ask for her help. He found her in her office, writing in a spiral bound notebook.

"Sue," he said, leaning on the chair facing her desk. "I need your help."

She looked up at him, smiled, and said, "I'm glad you finally asked." She stood up, walked right up to him, and in one smooth motion he was surely not expecting, she cut his tie off at the knot. He stared at her, flabbergasted. "I know the shock is painful but the first step is admitting you have a problem."

He felt around his neck. "You cut off my tie!" he said. "Sonny Bono gave me that tie!" he said, his voice going all squeaky.

"Glad I could help," she said, returning to her seat, seemingly unaware that she had done no such thing. The Doctor wasn't fooled. He could tell when someone thought they were surprising him. Unfortunately they very rarely did.

"I need you to show me where the ship is. It's the key to unlocking all the mysteries plaguing this school, and I have to get to the bottom of it."

"I admire your God complex," she said. "Tomorrow. Meet me here at 4 AM."

He shook his head. "Tomorrow won't work," he said. "I'm going with the glee club to sectionals since Will's disqualified."

"Too bad. Saturday's the only day I'm going in the foreseeable future."

He fixed her with a hard stare. He knew what she was doing and he wasn't about to play the game. He wouldn't grovel, wouldn't beg... but instead he drove straight to the point. "Why are you doing this?" he asked.

She looked up from her notebook again, smiled a patronizing smile as if she were speaking to an idiot, and said, "Why, Jonathan, to destroy the glee club of course." She scoffed as if his question had been stupid.

At least she was honest. No beating around the bush this time. No hidden agendas. It was almost refreshing. He made one last effort. "What if I showed you," he said, taking out the psychic paper, "a signed order from the president of the United States himself ordering your full cooperation?"

"That would be very impressive," she said. "However it looks like all you have there is a piece of blank paper."

He sighed. "Tomorrow. 4 AM." Then he turned on his heel and left. This was not going to be a fun chat with Will.

"I can't believe you would do this to me," Will said, staring open mouthed at the Doctor across a table in the teachers' lounge. "And not even to me, but to the kids! They can't go alone."

"I'm sorry, Will. Really, I am. But this is important. I wouldn't just cancel on you for a flight of fancy."

"What is it? What is it that's so important, that you'd crush these kids' dreams?"

The Doctor grasped for words. He usually opted for honesty in a situation like this. He'd happily run his mouth and tell Roman soldiers that the problem they were facing was a temporal inversion caused when two layers of temporal strata become intertwined and switch places knowing full well they wouldn't understand a single word. But somehow, telling Will that he was blowing off his co-director's duties to go check out a space ship that crashed in Cuyahoga national park two decades ago with his arch rival didn't seem like a smart plan. "Their lives," he replied quietly. "This is a matter of life and death, I promise you."

Will ran his hand over his face from the eyes down, as if he were wiping the stress off. "What do you need? Can I help? If you'd just tell me what this is about..."

"I can't. I'm sorry I just... I can't." He sat back in his chair. So did Will.

"How's it going fellas?" Emma asked, sitting at the table with her lunch box and donning a rubber glove.

"Not so great," Will said. "Doc can't make it to sectionals."

"Then... who's gonna take the kids?"

"I don't know."

"Well... I guess... I could."

Will shook his head. "Emma, the wedding is on Saturday. Your wedding."

"I know. But... we could just push it back a few hours. Really, I want to do this, Will. I want to take the kids to sectionals."

"Okay, but… What about Ken?"

"I'll appeal to him as an educator."

"Emma, if you're sure..." she nodded, and he sighed. "I can't thank you enough."

The Doctor smiled. "There we go. All solved then."

Will glared at him. "Yeah. All solved."

The Doctor held back from glee rehearsal that afternoon. He wanted to give everyone a few minutes to talk about him, question his loyalty, and say whatever they liked about him before he showed up. He deserved whatever they said. He'd promised to come through for them and he'd failed. But when he finally started walking towards the choir room, he ran into Finn, quite literally. Finn was running and crying, not caring where he was going or who was in his way when he barreled into the Doctor, who caught him in an accidental hug coming around the corner.

"Oooph!" the Time Lord said. "Careful, there, QB. Save it for the football field." Finn didn't say anything. He didn't even make eye contact. "Finn? Anything the matter?"

"It's Quinn!" he shouted. "She lied! She lied about our baby."

"What do you mean? What lie?" It was obvious that the young man didn't want to talk about it. He shook off the Doctor's grip, leaned against a wall of lockers and dug his palms into his eyes. He didn't want to be bothered or talked to, and that was why it was important that someone did. "Finn!" he said, taking him by the shoulders and shaking him, firmly but gently. "Finn, look at me. What's happened?"

"I'm not the father, Puckerman is," Finn said. "He slept with my girlfriend. My best friend and my girlfriend, and they betrayed me!"

The Doctor pulled him into an embrace, this time intentional. He let him snivel all over the brown pinstriped suit, not caring in the slightest.

"I'm sorry," he said. "Betrayal hurts, especially from the people we love."

"But... I still love her. It's weird, but I definitely still love her. Doc, why do I still love her?"

He pulled back, and held Finn by his shoulders at arms length. "Because you're a good man. The mark of greatness, Finn Hudson, isn't in how smart you are or how much money you have or how much people like you. Real greatness is being able to look past all the things that people do, to see them right down to the core of their being, and to love what you find there, no matter what they've done to you. The people that realize that everyone is important... those are the people who will change the world."

"Do you know what the worst thing is?"

"Hm?"

"I know we're young and stupid, and that Quinn just wanted to give it up for adoption anyway but... I was really excited about being a dad."

The Doctor patted him on the back. "One day."

Finn nodded. "Yeah. One day." They stood in silence for a minute. "I gotta go, Doc. I got a lot to talk about with my mom."

"Good lad. Off you go."

A/N: Thanks to everyone who's R&Ring!