So here's what you missed on Glee: in the last chapter of Tesseraction, Pearl got stuck in an avalanche on her own and sang. The song took her back to the TARDIS because she sang it with all the desperation of someone who really didn't want to die. Also, in the Doctor Who episode "Doomsday," the world was overrun by Daleks and Cybermen, which the Doctor forced into the void between universes.
Disclaimer: I don't own the musical "Gypsy," of which there is only one reference this entire chapter, and that's the title.
Chapter XXV: Rose's Turn (Part One)
"Whoa! Where the fuck did she go?" Sam demanded. The band music became muffled and died out altogether.
The Doctor sighed. "She's in the void."
"What the hell does that mean?" Sam asked.
The Doctor closed his eyes, and Sam was relieved he couldn't see the pained look in the Time Lord's eyes anymore. "It means she's trapped between universes. And since there's nothing, literally nothing between universes, she can never breathe, or move, or change, or leave."
"Why the hell not?" Sam asked. "I mean, if there's nothing, aren't the universes right next to each other? And if things can get sucked into the void, how can there be nothing in it?"
The Doctor groaned. "Best case scenario, she's immediately and painfully killed in the void by Daleks or Cybermen, and worst case scenario, she's stuck in there forever."
"Can't we get her out? You have a sonic screwdriver; doesn't that open cracks into the void?" Sam asked, pointing to the blue device.
The Doctor looked at it for a good, long while. "Stuck," he muttered. "She was frozen in a state of singing," he stood and looked around, distracted by his idea. "If we can hear her in the crack, I can open it and pull her out, but that would pull other things stuck in there out too."
"So what?" Sam asked. "Can't you defeat them?"
The Doctor grinned. "Easily," he bragged. "Come on," he waved at Sam. "We're going to the cracks—to every crack—and see if we can't get her back!"
Along with everyone else, Blaine and Kurt stared at Puck when he walked in without his trademark mohawk.
"Who is that guy?" Brittany asked Santana.
Puck sighed and sat next to her. "My mom found a mole on my head when she was washing my hair on Friday." There was no singing or screaming.
"Your mom still washes your hair?" Santana replied.
"She thought I had cancer, so she sent me to this demontologist who shaved off my hair to see the mole. But now I feel like that guy who lost all his hair and then lost all his strength."
"Samson?" Santana offered helpfully.
"Agassi," Puck shook his head. "Seriously, though, this loser actually looked me in the eye today. I can't believe all my hotness was in my hair."
"Actually, I don't know if it's the missing mohawk or the whining, but I am totally not turned on by you right now," Santana said before leaving.
"I'm human garbage," said a familiar male. Pearl felt that could have been joy, if there was such thing as joyful nothingness. It had been a while since she had been able to tell time, or maybe it hadn't. Either way, hearing another human voice meant there was hope for her. She latched on to the residual existence of the boy and something like thoughts began to form in her mind, just enough for her to know to focus on Puck so that she could continue to exist.
"I should just lie here until the truck comes and let it crush me to death. What's the point of living when I suck so bad?" Around him, people clapped while Mercedes sang. Then there were more thoughts. "Wait a minute. That black chick used to suck and now she's all kinds of popular. If she can straighten herself out, I certainly can. But how? I'm not becoming a Cheerio. Wait, I don't need to be a cheerleader; I just need to date one. Get ready, black-girl-whose-name-I-can't-remember, the Puckster's about to make you his." And a crack formed in the dumpster, large enough for it to break just after Puck jumped out. He didn't notice the little cracks in the asphalt as he continued walking.
"Hey, sugar, listen, I got a proposition to make. I did some research. Blacks and Jews have a history of sticking up for each other," Puck said, catching Mercedes on her way to her locker. "And Wikipedia says that King Martin Luther loved the Jews."
There was the sound of giggling, but since it seemed to be coming from Mercedes' closed locker, Puck didn't pay much attention to it as he and Mercedes bantered.
"Baby, I just am not attracted to you. Plus, I know what you do to the girls you date," she opened her locker and found that the wall behind it was cracked and her stuff was missing, but she couldn't find it in herself to care. "You knock them up, and then you hang them out to dry."
"Look, Quinn and I weren't dating, alright? I was just screwing her when Finn wasn't. Besides, she knew better than to tie me down. I'm a sex shark. If I stop moving, I die."
"Stop," Mercedes held up her hand. "You're Top 40; I'm rhythm and blues. We have nothing in common," she said as she walked away.
Blaine wasn't listening when Will yelled at the kids for slacking off. He wasn't listening to everyone else yelling at Rachel. He wasn't listening to everyone excusing themselves because Santana was too hot and Quinn was too pregnant and "There are just so many lyrics," really, Brittany? He was far too busy looking at the crack that now spanned the entire back wall to pay more than arbitrary attention to Will telling everyone that their assignment of the week was to sing in their true voice until he heard Kurt and Mercedes leaving the room.
"I personally can't wait to perform. I know my voice; I have the vocal range of a sixteenth-century castrato, but you know what I have that he doesn't?" Mercedes turned to him, about to suggest the obvious two, when he continued, "A song by Whitney Houston."
"Oh, hey Kurt," Burt smiled and waved at his son.
"Dad, what are you doing here?" Kurt asked, dropping Mercedes' hand. For some reason, when his father was around, he didn't think holding hands with Mercedes was a good idea. "Is something wrong?" Kurt wondered.
"No," Burt smiled. "I'm just here to take Finn to a baseball game."
"Well, why didn't you invite me?" Kurt asked.
"Are you kidding me?" Burt smiled. "Every time I sit down to watch a game, you start in on the fact that all the players are wearing stirrup pants."
"Because there's never an excuse for stirrup pants," Kurt knew he was losing ground and clung to the only thing he had.
"Oh, hey, are we ready to go?" Finn asked, walking in.
"We'll be back at around midnight; don't wait up, okay?" Burt waved goodbye to his son. Mercedes opened her locker as Kurt and Rachel bumped parts out of each other. They kept walking, and Mercedes felt something rushing past her head and into her locker, but when she didn't find anything inside her locker—she didn't expect to find something anyway—she shrugged off the feeling and closed the locker.
The first thing Kurt did when he got home was change clothes. The last thing Rachel did before she went to sleep was take a sweeping glance at her warm-up music and decide that she didn't want to sing right now after all.
"Girl, you got more curves than a Nissan ad," Puck tried to flirt with Mercedes again. This time Rachel's laugh brushed past both of them, but when they turned to the girl, her lips were focused on her conversation with Finn, and yet that laughter was too audible to be faked.
"Alright, guys," Will clapped his hands together to announce the beginning of class. "Who's going first?" he asked.
Rachel jumped up and immediately walked to the front of the class, but when she opened her mouth to sing "The Climb," the only thing that came out was a thin, sharp voice not suited for song. Everyone looked at each other in confusion (and discomfort when a particularly high note was over-hit) except Brittany, who was talking to the wall. After a few seconds, Brittany tapped Blaine on the shoulder.
"You mother says you should tell Sam she's wherever Puck is," Brittany whispered.
"How do I tell him that?" Blaine whispered back. "I can't call them," he looked down at his phone and wondered if he could remember the number like he remembered Sunday night. Pearl had twice introduced herself as his mother; he must have called her at some point in his future, even if he didn't remember. Excusing himself, he went outside and dialed seven digits that felt right.
Immediately, his phone tried to leap out of his hand. He gripped it so hard that he could no longer feel the tips of his fingers.
"Blaine!" the woman sounded happy. No, she sounded like she had just been introduced to the idea of happy.
"Pearl, what did you mean?" Blaine hissed.
"You're like Typhoid Mary; you don't have it, you just transmit it. And Puck's got it, so I'm near him. Tell Sam," here she recited a number, "and tape your phone back together." Blaine's phone seemed to explode in his hand. A large crack ran down the screen.
"Hey, Ladyface," Sue walked up to Kurt moisturizing with a mirror. "I noticed you weren't at Cheerios practice yesterday, and I don't look kindly on absenteeism."
"Sorry," Kurt said. "I spent most of last night afraid that my dad and I can't bond because I'm gay," he sighed.
"Oh, how do you know you're gay? Have you ever kissed a boy?"When Kurt shook his head, Sue continued to ask, "Well, have you ever kissed a girl?"
Kurt shook his head again and closed his locker.
"You see, that's the problem with your generation; you're obsessed with labels. So you like show tunes! That doesn't mean you're gay; it just means you're awful! You know," she added with something akin to warmth in her voice, "there's only one person in this world who can tell you what you are."
Kurt smiled and rolled his eyes at the expected cliché. "Me," he nodded dismissively.
Sue smiled kindly. "Exactly," she said in a tone one expected from Emma Pillsbury. "I'm pleased to see that you've finally decided to embrace yourself."
"Hey, Kurt," Blaine walked up to his ex-boyfriend and pressed his phone into Kurt's hand. "Your dad fixes things, right?"
"Where are you trying to go?" asked Sam.
"When in doubt, go to the doctor," the Doctor replied.
"But you are the Doctor," Sam looked confused.
"No, I mean Dr. Song. River Song," the Doctor smiled as the TARDIS roared into life. However, when he opened the door, he let started to throw a tantrum, as he did not see the woman who vaguely resembled Alex Kingston anywhere.
"Doc, hey, Doc," Sam tugged on the Doctor's sleeve to get his attention, and pointed at a nearby house. "Does that say what I think it says?" he asked.
8513 Chord Street, a cracked a dilapidated house that nobody looked at, besides the two males who exchanged celebratory high-fives and walked in.
"This is it," the Doctor gaped and walked carefully inside, holding out the sonic screwdriver as if it were a sword.
"Is she in here?" Sam asked.
"No, but she is in there," the Doctor pointed to the largest crack yet, something definitely big enough to fit a human. He pressed a button on the screwdriver that made the crack vibrate until it got bigger. The sound of screaming could be heard.
The Doctor and Sam winced. "Is she supposed to sound like this?" Sam asked.
The Doctor looked grim. "Nothing is scarier, far scarier, than a monster. At least with a monster, you know what you're fighting, you can learn to defeat it."
Just then, Sam's phone buzzed. He checked the text message. "Hey, Blaine says that if we find Puck, we'll find her."
"That explains a lot," the Doctor said in a flat monotone.
"What are you talking about?" Sam asked, looking up. Immediately, he froze.
Apparently, monsters existed in nothing.
"Exterminate!"
The look on the Doctor's face was petrifying. "I didn't mean to reverse the polarity quite that hard," he whimpered.
"I don't know what to do with this," Burt said, walking downstairs. "Engines and electronics are two totally different-" his eyes widened when he saw Kurt wearing baggy jeans and a coat vest over a flannel shirt. A thoroughly unsuitable cap was the cherry on this unflattering cake, at least until Kurt started speaking in possibly the lowest octave Burt had ever heard.
"Sure, but I've got to be honest with you; that's pretty much what every Mellencamp song is about. But, you know, I'll get my coat—anything to help you out," Burt's voice was clear through the crack, which had shifted from broadcasting the Glee room to broadcasting Kurt's room.
Blaine wanted to throw something. His parents had been nicer than usual to him—namely, ignored him—and while he enjoyed that, it only added to his feeling that something was incredibly off. His parents were not nice people. He just wished he knew what was wrong.
The answer was not forthcoming the next day, although it got no less confusing, when the jazz band walked in.
"What are they doing here?" Mercedes asked what was on Blaine's mind.
"I thought I'd need some help from the brothers from the jazz band," Puck said.
Blaine wondered why he didn't mention his sisters—the flutist in the back had a long ponytail—even if the single girl never lifted her face. Come to think of it, he couldn't hear the flute, either.
"Since I shaved off my mohawk, I started seeing things differently," Puck continued. "Last week, I joined a black church, and I recently downloaded every song Sammy Davis Jr. ever recorded on iTunes. He was a black Jew, you know, and my inspiration." He launched into "Lady is a Tramp" and Blaine noticed three things almost simultaneously.
Santana went from enjoying the song to glaring at the singer, Mercedes went from bored to being incredibly into the singer, and Kurt was wearing flannel, a vest, and a cap. A sense of wrong fell over the entire room, which only exacerbated when Kurt, who appeared to be chewing something that smelled nothing like gum, went up to sing "Pink Houses."
Everyone looked at each other oddly, and applause was scattered and weak. Will even told Kurt off for not showing his true voice. Mike, Brittany, and Blaine looked at each other, confirming that something was wrong, before Brittany looked down to check her text messages.
"I am not a box," Kurt said, nonplussed. "There are more than four sides to me."
"Kurt," Blaine began with a pleading note in his voice, but the bell rang and Brittany walked up to Kurt and cut Blaine off.
"So, you're pretty much the only guy in this school that I haven't made out with, because I thought you were capital-G gay, but now that you're not, having a perfect record would mean a lot to me. So, let me know if you want to tap this," Brittany said, gesturing sensually to her own body.
"Gay?" Santana looked confused and angry. "Since when was Kurt gay?" she muttered, leaving.
Blaine wondered if anyone else noticed that half the back wall had crumbled off, or that the jazz band was now missing a member.
Kurt's hand brushed against the wall, where words he never saw were written, when he tried to keep Brittany's hand off his butt and down to his thigh. Her lip gloss tasted like root beer, which didn't make sense because she would never wear anything but pure sugar. "Can I ask you something?" he began, not sure why he was asking. "What do boys' lips taste like?" He could barely remember something, someone, who made him feel loved.
"Usually dip," Brittany answered. "Sometimes hamburgers, or my armpits," she added calmly.
Burt, walking past the door, saw a custom-made Do Not Disturb sign that wouldn't have seemed out of place had the cracked phone in his pocket not vibrated just then with a voicemail.
"I guarantee you, he's still gay," said a woman. A feeling of wrong washed over him.
I've already written the scene where Blaine and Kurt get back together, and it will be happening sometime within the next two chapters.
Guys, I know I promised to write about season two as well, but I couldn't think of a good way to stretch the mystery out this far. So, season two will be its own, separate arc. It should still be interesting, -crosses fingers- but it will be a different story.