A/N: BEFORE THE SPANISH-SPEAKING COMMUNITY MURDERS ME, I COULD REALLY USE SOME HELP WITH SANTANA'S SPANISH! Oops. Dumb caps lock. I'm playing 'write a chapter with no planning'. Tell me how I do.

"Jesse St. James totally Jesse St. Sucks!" Kurt declared, leading the march back into the empty choir room, quickly followed by a contradicting Rachel. "Did you not hear him? He said I shouldn't be singing girls' songs? No! He didn't even say that. He said I shouldn't be singing songs directed at guys. He let his own personal prejudice interfere with his impartial judging. This is exactly why Adam Lambert didn't come out until after American Idol!"

"Kurt, Jesse is not homophobic. There were plenty of gay Vocal Adrenaline members that he both respected and interacted with in a peaceful manner," Rachel argued as everyone else either grabbed their bags or sat down to talk about the auditions and Kurt took a seat at the piano bench, preparing to rant more about the biased dickhead.

"Believe me, I know." Many a creepy Vocal Adrenaline member had hit on him, thank you very much, Rachel.

"I think the winner of four show choir championships might be able to give us all some valuable advice," Rachel choked out as she frantically chugged her water.

"Chugging is bad for your throat," Kurt commented, idly tapping out an old piano exercise.

"We all know you're in love with him Rachel, but do you have to be so obvious?" Mercedes commented from her seat next to Tina, and Kurt grinned.

"Don't use the fact that Jesse and I once had feelings for each other as an excuse for my inevitable win," Rachel declared, waving a hand at Mercedes. The chocolate diva looked very tempted to bite it off and watch Rachel scream and writhe in pain.

"Correction: you had feelings for him, he made breakfast on your head," Kurt added rather pettily.

"Look, Jesse and I both appreciate the integrity of show choir too much to soil the competition. He's just going to vote for whoever was best." Rachel whirled in her chair, as if to say 'end of discussion.' Not even close.

"That would be me. You guys can fight over who's gonna come in second all you want because I kicked that song square in the balls. I'm so gonna win this thing." Once again, Santana's overconfidence shown through. Kurt rolled his eyes, banging on the two keys to make the Jaws theme. Santana overestimated Schue's ability to control Jesse's mind games.

"Why didn't you audition Tina?" Kurt asked, still running his fingers over the familiar piano keys, attempting to divert Mercedes, Santana, and Rachel before there was dark hair flying and Santana potentially proved that she really did have razor blades in her hair. GaGa, why did everything have to make him think of Blaine?

"I knew I wouldn't get it with St. Asshole. Plus, auditions have never really been my thing. You know that," she added quietly at the end, and Kurt nodded. Tina was too shy to truly utilize her talent, and it had been even worse since the heckling on the Night of Neglect.

"What about you Artie?" Rachel practically pounced (verbally) on the wheelchair-bound boy, who looked distinctly uncomfortable with the way the soprano was looking at him.

"Having me as the central focus would just be awkward and throw off the whole dynamic, unless we decided to do wheelchair-bound numbers and ignore the potential for the judges thinking we copied Jane Adams," he grimaced as he spoke, and Kurt sent him a grimace of sympathy. The number had meant so much to him, and the Jane Adams girls had stolen it.

"Actually, it could potentially have solved the problem of you throwing off our dynamic. Many a Vocal Adrenaline performer who has been the central focus couldn't dance, and would be placed in a strategic area in order to allow free movement of the stage for the dancers while still be incorporated in the number. They were simply lucky that Jesse is such an incredible singer and dancer, and could allow them to do an amazing version of Bohemian Rhapsody-" Rachel babbled on and on.

"I'm gonna cut Hobbit off right here or else I mights shoot her," Santana said, breaking into Rachel's running monologue. Kurt and the rest of the club laughed once they realized she didn't have anything important to say, she just wanted Rachel to stop talking. "Hey, Britt-Britt, why didn't you audition?"

"But then I wouldn't get to dance," Brittany said, confused. Kurt wasn't entirely sure she got the concept of leading for Nationals, but she had a point. Brittany's voice wasn't as incredible as her moves and she would be a better asset as a dancer, considering they had so few.

"And I can't sing," Mike cut in, knowing he would be the next one questioned. "Plus, I dance with Brittany."

"That's the only reason you got past at Sectionals," Kurt revealed, wincing inwardly at bringing up the topic. Wes, David, and Thad had ignored the pressure to spy on the judges, but as they had no authority over Charlie, he had happily informed them of the judges' views. "Judges are far too easily impressed by a cappella choirs, especially those who create their own accompaniment instead of just singing into thin air."

"Exactly why we need all of our best dancers to be focused on dancing," Rachel pointed out, almost as subtly as Kurt was with everything, glancing towards Santana as she spoke.

"Some of us can multitask. Like, for instance, being able to control the faces we're making as we sing," Santana shot back with a vicious smirk, and everyone still in the room cracked up.

"It's true, Rach, you always look like you're trying to envelop a watermelon in your mouth," Kurt said with a little smirk, knowing he didn't do that.

"Or a really big dick," Brittany added, making the room quiet and Rachel flush a spectacular red. Too bad red wasn't her color.

"Come on, Britt-Britt," Santana broke the awkward silence after a few minutes. "Let's blow this joint." Brittany followed like an obedient puppy, and Kurt frowned at the little display. Santana could boss Brittany around and make her love the Latina bitch, but she wouldn't come out for her?

"I need to go as well. Good luck to all of you... except Rachel," Quinn let out a little parting comment against everyone's least favorite soprano and then left, dragging Puck away with her by the arm and interrupting his conversation with Artie uncaring.

Slowly the rest of the club wandered out, most with parting comments toward a now-very-annoyed Rachel, until the only two left in the choir room were Kurt and the still-flushed soprano. Feeling another one of their little 'conversations' coming on and trying valiantly to avoid it, he began playing notes at random, weaving together a soft melody.

"Can I ask you something?" The very oblivious Rachel came and sat next to him at the bench, watching his fingers move with mild interest.

"If you must," Kurt replied. "I make no promises about answering."

"What was your song about?"

"Ow, bitch! I was having a conversation!" Damn it, Quinn was strong.

Ignoring the complaining jock she was dragging along, Quinn continued out to car and unlocked it before practically shoving Puck into the passenger seat. Locking him into the car just for her short walk to the driver's seat, Quinn gave him a moment to cool down before getting into the car with him.

"What was that?" she asked frantically, annoyed with the mohawked boy.

"What was what, cranky?" Puck seemed to be checking his bicep for bruises. "At least you didn't mark the goods. I have people to woo, y'know."

"The song, Noah. What was the song about?" Quinn asked, more patiently this time.

"Stuff. I just thought it sounded good." The mohawked boy protected his secrets.

"Who was it for, Noah?" Quinn asked, calmly, but this was clearly the wrong question to ask.

"I don't sing songs for chicks, Quinn, I'm not a fucking preppy boy!" Puck exploded, moving away from her as best he could in the small area afforded to him and turning his head from her.

"You wrote a song for Lauren," she pointed out. "You sang a song for me, and for Rachel. You... you told me that you loved me." The last part was quietest, and followed by silence in the car.

"I did. I do."

"No you don't, Noah. If you ever did, you don't anymore, at least not in that way. You and I... we never would have worked. I love you like a brother, and I know you feel the same way, but it'll never be like that again. We have too much history." The conversation had turned to whispering as they talked about the words outside the hospital room, the words both had sworn to themselves would never be mentioned again.

"Like hell we do!" Puck said, but with more passion than anger.

"Noah, that song wasn't for me." There was no answer to Quinn's statement, because Puck didn't like lying to her. "It was sweet, but it wasn't to woo me. So who was it for?"

"I think it is very obvious to someone as musically gifted as you, I begrudgingly admit, are," Kurt deflected, wishing Rachel wasn't so very nosy. Rachel sat for a few moments in silence, as if planning her words for once, before answering.

"The lyrics are clear. The meaning is not," was all she said in reply, and Kurt allowed his impromptu song to become a little faster and angrier.

"I chose that song because it allowed me to emote like no other song I can think of would. The parallels in the lyrics that could technically fit Blaine and I are simply coincidences." Kurt didn't feel bad lying through his teeth to Rachel, because it certainly wasn't the first time he hadn't been one hundred percent honest with the soprano.

"I didn't hear any parallels between you and Blaine,' Rachel stated quietly. Kurt turned to stare at her in shock, allowing his fingers to quiet the music as he did. "I heard parallels between you, Noah, and Blaine." Now, that truly hadn't been his intention.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, and I'm actually being honest this time." While Rachel wasn't actually psychic, she was very perceptive as to lies, and Kurt knew he had been caught.

"The first verse applies to Blaine, what it was like when you first met him. Uncertain that you could truly love him because of what had happened in your past, but wanting to anyway because you felt so much." Kurt stopped playing as she spoke. One could never say that Rachel Berry didn't have an explanation for her words, as convoluted as they sometimes were. "You felt connected to him, protected by him, and you allowed yourself to fall in love, to let him save you, trusting him not to break you, but knowing he could."

"Thank you, I must say again, for rehashing all of this," Kurt responded sardonically, standing up and gathering his music for his bag, as though that would make Rachel stop talking.

"The second verse is the truest. You've been through hell again and again, and it never should have happened to someone so young and innocent. Yet, you loved Blaine with all your heart, and allowed him past all the walls you had built up against everyone. Even your family isn't allowed inside those walls, even Mercedes. Unfortunately, when you two were one beating heart," Rachel quoted directly, "he tore you two apart, and you became bound to a memory."

"Suddenly, the moment's here. Noah's here, once one of your main aggressors, now a friend and teammate. In order to love him, you have to put aside all of the fears you carry, and put your heart on the line after it has been broken. You're bound to Noah. You love him," Rachel ended quietly, and Kurt whirled on her.

"I do not love Noah," he hissed. "My subconscious has some sick sort of Stockholm Syndrome at best. Am I attracted to him? Of course, who wouldn't be? Is he attracted to me? Of course not. One dream and a small portion of attraction does not true love make!"

"You could love him," Rachel amended quietly. "You know you could."

"It's certainly a good thing I don't," Kurt said finally, stalking out of the room.

"I keep telling you, that dumbass song wasn't for anyone. St. Flatass was supposed to be impressed by my... music box." Puck couldn't think of the term.

"Wheelhouse," Quinn supplied with a smile, keeping the mental note that Puck had been checking out Jesse's butt. "And you can tell me over and over that No Boundaries wasn't for anyone, but you would be so angry at me if I lied to you that many times."

"I'm not lying, Quinn. The songs about all those dumb ideas Broadway hopefuls and failures like. Never giving up on your dreams and that shit." Puck stubbornly refused to admit that he had heard Kurt listening to the song once when he was over playing video games at Finn's and had to take a piss. He hadn't been able to find the version Kurt was listening to, it was probably by that qu-gay dude St. Flatass had mentioned, but he had thought it was pretty kickass, especially listening to Kurt sing along.

"Noah, you would never pick a song to appease two people you don't care about all that much. Mr. Schue is nice and lovely and helpful to everyone, but that song was for someone you care about, and that person wasn't me. Was it Rachel?" she asked, faking meek but knowing the answer was 'no'.

"Fuck no!" Puck shouted, starting a laugh out of Quinn. "She has enough boys wrapped around her finger begging for a grab at that flat chest, she doesn't need a third!"

"That's not nice, Noah," Quinn reprimanded, though she secretly approved. Noah didn't seem too bothered by the objective either way. "Was it Lauren?" She would actually be pretty mad if the answer was 'yes.'

"No, she'd think that song was total bullshit, which it is." Quinn sighed in relief.

"Was it... Mercedes?" Quinn pulled the name out of her head, thinking the black diva would be the type of Broadway-loving girl to like that song about aspiring.

"Tried that, never going back," Puck said solemnly and Quinn giggled.

"Santana would agree with Lauren, Brittany would be confused, Tina has a boyfriend," she glared at Puck for reassurance and got a shake of the head, "so who else could it possibly be?"

"Don't worry about it, Quinnilla, you'll find out soon enough," Puck slipped out of the car which Quinn had forgotten to re-lock upon her own entry.

"Shoot."

"He's an asshole, you know, and completely wrong." Finn jumped about a foot at the sound of Kurt's voice. "You are New York City good, whether you believe it or not." The countertenor was lounging at his door frame, holding two slightly steaming mugs. "May I come in?"

"How did you know I said that? 'New York City good,'" Finn clarified at Kurt's confused look.

"I was talking to Rachel earlier." The statement wasn't quite a lie, but wasn't quite the truth either. He had been talking to Rachel, but Finn hadn't even been mentioned. Truth is, he'd been eavesdropping. Sue him.

"I'm not New York City good. You, Rach, Blaine, Jesse, Mercedes... you're all fantastic. I'm average." Kurt snorted at his brother's statement, taking Finn's lack of answer to his original question as an invitation into his room. Taking a seat on his bed, Kurt handed Finn the mug before replying.

"Finn, considering that you consider me New York City good, does that not give me the expertise required to know that you're better than you think you are. Jesse's not as good as he thinks he is. You have an amazing future ahead of you, with whoever makes you the happiest you can be. Jesse is stuck on a girl with bigger dreams than him, and he's probably going to be stuck in Lima as a show choir consultant for Ohio as long as he lives. So, who's New York City good again?" Finn smiled at his brother;s attempts.

"Dude, Rachel tries to like.. train me and stuff. I can't be that good," Finn argued.

"Perhaps you should let her. Singing is like sports. You have to practice, learn, and always try your hardest. What's better than learning from the pros?" Finn was silent. "If you wanted, instead of being a singing puppet to your psychotic ex-girlfriend and stalker," Finn laughed a little at that, giving Kurt a disapproving look at the same time, "I could give you some lessons. Despite Rachel's beliefs, we are one hundred percent equal in talent, and I'm more patient."

"That's definitely true. Singing lessons would be awesome, thanks dude." Finn took a sip of his milk and the room lapsed into not-entirely-comfortable silence before Kurt broached the topic he'd been looking for advice on.

"Finn?" Kurt asked, and the jock nodded for him to go on. "What do you think of Noah?"

"What do you mean?" Finn asked, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and earning a frown from a slightly-disgusted Kurt.

"I don't know. Is he a good person?" Kurt asked, clutching at his warm milk as he waited for Finn to answer.

"Yeah. I mean, things have been screwed up between us lately, but he's a good guy. We've been friends since we were tykes. I was there for him when his dad left, but that was the last time I think I really knew him, y'know?" At the shake of Kurt's head, Finn elaborated. "He changed after that. A lot. 'Noah' became 'Puck' to almost everyone. He started picking on littler dudes, and hitting on older chicks. He was twelve when he lost his virginity," Finn admitted, and thankfully didn't notice how Kurt's eyes bulged out of his head. "He's fucked over a hundred people since. He has a list. It's pretty creepy."

"What about... recently?" Kurt didn't want to say 'Quinn,' but they both knew what he was referring to.

"Puck and I got into some fights. Hell, Puck and everyone got into some fights. He used to ditch the team almost every night. He would come to school with bruises the next morning. Then that stopped, and he stopped nailing Cheerios for about a month. Then he nailed Quinn, and the rest is history. I... forgive him, though, I guess. He was really screwed up. Plus, we're back together now, and it's all good. Better than good, actually," Finn grinned, and Kurt stopped it right there.

"I don't want to hear it, Cowboy," Kurt declared, putting a hand up. "We've all seen the hickeys." Finn flushed a little at that one. "I should do my homework, and so should you." Kurt urged, but Finn ignored him as always.

"Thanks for the milk, dude," Finn called after him, almost jumping up and spilling his precious milk everyone.

"Don't call me 'dude,'" was what Kurt called in reply, and it felt... domestic. Brotherly. It was nice.

"Where do you find these songs?" Rachel asked, awed, as she held the Internet-made sheet music for Finally Free in her hands.

"You're not the only one with five iPods, Miss Berry," the club had taken to calling Rachel that after Puck and Mike's little impromptu rap. "Though, I must admit, I found this particular song watching a horrible gymnastics TV show on one of the days I simply didn't want to get out of bed."

"This is perfect, Kurt, it's everything that should be expressed at a proper funeral," Mr. Schue supported the idea. "Did you have any ideas as to who would be singing it?"

"As the song is completely acoustic, it would be simplest if the male lead played guitar, but I didn't have any specific suggestions." Kurt was hoping that this would be the one rehearsal that solos would not be fought over, but auditioned for honorably.

"I'll do it," Puck raised his hand, surprising everyone in the room.

"That's great, Puck. How about you and... Rachel?"

"I'll do it," Puck repeated, "on one condition. Princess is singing it with me." It took everyone in the room, including the 'princess' mentioned, to realize who he was talking about.

"Are you sure that's the best idea for a funeral? Not to be rude, but encouraging that kind of... reaction at such a sacred ceremony..." Mr. Schue let his statement trail off at Kurt's frantic nodding and the shake of Puck's head.

"Do you seriously think that anyone who was friends with Jean Sylvester would be homophobic? She wouldn't put up with that shit. Plus, we're not together or anything. It's just a song. Two people that are not romantically involved can sing a song together," Puck pointed out, and, damn, Kurt had no argument.

"Fine, but let it be known that I am not happy about this arrangement."

Kurt pointedly stood far away from Puck by the piano as Puck strummed on the stool set up in the middle of the room, seemingly indifferent as to the location of his duet partner. By the time they were done, everyone in the club was in tears or almost there due to their performance (except, perhaps, Rachel, who was probably upset that she wasn't singing the song).

"Kurt, Puck, you have to do that song. Your voices blend so perfectly, and it suits you both so perfectly, vocal wise. Kurt's high, pure voice doesn't even overpower your low, calm tones. It's amazing," Quinn breathed out praise. Both boys suspected the words were more of Quinn's misguided attempts to help get them together than actual support for the song, but the rest of the club seemed to be in agreement.

"I will consent to doing this song for the funeral, but may I state that it is under protest!" Everyone ignored Kurt as they showered the duet partners with praise.

"Just try not to sound like you want to kill each other next time," Mercedes added with a laugh, wiping away a few stray tears.

"Finn, where are you going?" Kurt called to his brother as the jock started to leave.

They had managed to get their duet sounding incredible, despite Kurt's extreme reluctance to be anywhere near Pick, and the decorations for the funeral seemed flawless. The venue was reserved, all that was left was the itinerary for the ceremony.

"Home?" Finn's statement was a question, as always.

"We're cleaning out Jean's stuff, remember?" Kurt asked patiently, knowing that Finn had not actually remembered.

"Oh, yeah." The two brothers walked out to the car in silence. "Dude, are you sure you can handle this?"

"Of course, Finn. As nice as Jean was to everyone, it will be much easier for you and I to do this than for Coach Sylvester." Kurt tried to deflect Finn's question, but sometimes Finn's obliviousness was his best advantage.

"What were you saying earlier this week, about not regretting spending every moment with someone who had died or something?" Finn's questions just got worse and worse.

"Finn, I didn't want to talk about this before, and I certainly don't want to talk about this now." Kurt thought the subject had dropped as they got in the car, but Finn started again with the questions as soon as Kurt had pulled out of the parking lot.

"Did something happen with your mom?" Finn asked tentatively, knowing Mrs. Hummel was always a touchy subject.

"She died, Finn. Of course something happened," Kurt said, half-sarcastically, trying desperately to avoid this conversation, the one he knew would happen eventually but was dreading anyway.

"How did she die?" Finn asked, and the dam broke.

"Of cancer. She was diagnosed a week before my fifth birthday. I wasn't even told until seven months later, because that was the time that she had to go to the hospital... to start living at the hospital." Finn didn't offer a word of comfort or interruption. "I wanted to spend every moment at the hospital for a while, going as far as cutting school and running to the hospital to visit. The nurses never commented, knowing what I didn't, that she was terminal."

"Dude, I'm-" Kurt cut him off quickly.

"If you want to hear a story, don't interrupt." Once he was sure that Finn wasn't going to interrupt, he spoke again, keeping his eyes firmly on the road as he tried to focus on not crashing them into a tree. "She got sicker and sicker... we'll talk about this more once we're there."

The ride there was completely silent, only broken by the 80s rock Kurt had allowed, due to the fact that music was farthest from the center of his mind at the time. When they got there, neither boy got out of the car.

"She got sicker and sicker," Kurt started again, voice shaking, "and it got harder and harder to watch. I figured out for myself that she wasn't going to walk out of that hospital alive when I saw her vomit blood, and that was a month before she did. During that month," Kurt took a deep breath, trying to ignore the tears cascading down his face, "I didn't visit her at all. I couldn't, it was too hard, but, God, now I wish I had. I wish I had sat there with her and told her how much I loved her. I wish I had been there when she d-died." Kurt broke and buried his face into his hands as he sobbed, barely aware of Finn's warm arms wrapping around him as he tried to control his brother's sobbing.

"Sh, sh," Finn muttered, and Kurt turned into his warm neck, allowing himself to cry freely into the boy who had become his brother. "It's okay, Kurt, she knew that you loved her, and she knows that you love her." Those words, however true, made it even harder to stop crying, and Kurt must have bawled into Finn's shoulder for a good fifteen minutes before the sobs subsided to light hiccups and spare tears.

"I'm sorry. I've never talked about it before, and..." Finn clamped a clumsily-big hand over his mouth.

"Don't worry about it, dude. Wipe off your face, Miss Sylvester doesn't tolerate signs of weakness well." Kurt laughed slightly as he wiped his tears away with a tissue. "Let's go inside."

"Thank you, Finn."

"We sorted Jean's stuff into piles," Kurt addressed Miss Sylvester, who was staring at a clipboard with a look of confusion and loss. "Over there are some old magazines and newspapers that you can just toss out."

"A-and this is stuff you're definitely going to want to keep," Finn continued, obviously intimidated by the coach. "Uh, photos and stuffed animals. And this third pile is stuff that we don't really know what to do with. Um..."

"Pom-pom!" Kurt said, far too cheerfully for someone who had had a breakdown in the car about half an hour ago.

"Toss it," Miss Sylvester said automatically. "It's not worth anything."

"Are you sure?" Kurt said, and Finn knew he was thinking about his mom again.

"Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory," Finn read off one of the... super old DVDs.

"Oh, I love that movie," Kurt said with a little nostalgic smile.

"Then, you can take it. It's probably worn out. She watched it at least three times a week," Miss Sylvester was speaking emotionlessly. Flipping up the papers on her clipboard, she looked around. "Just toss it all out," she announced, getting off the bed.

"What?" Kurt asked, sounding shell-shocked.

"You heard me. It's all junk. I'll take the stuffed animal. Jean's had this since she was six. Everything else, just toss it out; I don't need it." Kurt looked downcast at the rejection of his help.

"But there are a lot of memories here," Finn argued. Perhaps it wasn't the best idea to argue with someone who's grieving, but Coach Sylvester was being dumb.

"You know, I'm not short on memories of my sister, so..." Miss Sylvester sounded snappy and almost-fazed.

"I know what it's like to lose someone," Kurt said carefully. "When someone dies, it hurts."

"Very astute, Porcelain." Miss Sylvester wasn't being very nice to people who were only trying to help. "That's a little nugget of wisdom I'd really like to jot down."

"Coach Sylvester, we're just trying to help," Finn cut in quickly.

"You know what, Cottage Cheese? You're not helping. You're actually making things worse. So do me a favor and take all this stuff to the dumpster on your way to the rehearsal for whatever treacly ballad you're planning on using to ruin my sister's funeral."

"Why did you agree to this, then?" Kurt called after her, obviously annoyed, and probably hurt. "I-If you hate us so much, then why are you letting the Glee Club plan the service?"

"I was afraid no one would come." Miss Sylvester's quiet statement floored both boys. "Jean didn't know a lot of people. I figured, with the Glee Club there, at least she'd have a full house." Miss Sylvester walked out, leaving both boys to their thoughts.

Kurt snatched the copy of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory out of Finn's hands to stare at it, tossing the Cheerio pom-pom onto the trash bag. "Oompa-loompa doompa-dee-doo. I have another puzzle for you," Kurt sang-spoke quietly. "We can make this funeral amazing for Jean, and prove Miss Sylvester wrong all at once. I have an idea."

"Please say there's not a puzzle involved."

A/N: This chapter's a little short, but considering I'm updating so fast, I really don't think you guys have anything to complain about. I... don't think I have anything to mention down here either. I wonder what percent of my author's notes are made up of apologies...?

Songs used: 0. Wow.
Songs mentioned: 'Finally Free' by Johnny Pacar & Josie Loren; seen on Make It or Break It. The lyrics will be in some other chapter.
Umm... I guess it's the Oompa-loompa song from Will Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. Everyone knows that song.

Reviews are Love.