For jilly74, mattyfresh (x2 for rereading!), PlainJane1 (x2 for rereading!), Wemmamazing and someWhereinRoma. Thank you so much for your continued support! I shall continue to endeavor to be worthy of it. Also, apparently many people are owed imaginary fruit baskets, I had no idea there was so much evangelizing going on! Awesome :)

And of course, as always, for traceit. Lately she's had to deal with my constant freakouts, but always manages to give me the perfect advice for each situation. She's my hero, seriously!

26

The next three days were about as difficult as you'd expect, or perhaps a little more than that. While the pain was comparable to what I'd experienced the year before, this time around it felt more irrevocable and was much harder to escape, even briefly. At least in Los Angeles, the devastation was completely internalized; there were no outside reminders of him, no memories triggered by any of my surroundings, nothing that even hinted at his existence from Calabasas to Anaheim. Lima, on the other hand, was miniscule in comparison, and nearly every street held some memories of him, even if they were only imaginary. But surely he'd visited that liquor store, eaten at that restaurant, shopped at that mini mall sometime throughout the course of his life, and I could picture him everywhere so clearly.

To make matters even worse, as though they weren't painful enough, I couldn't shut down for even a single second. When I'd returned to Los Angeles the year before, I'd literally spent the first two weeks home doing absolutely nothing (unless you consider watching reality television and eating tofutti cuties something, which I do not). But I wasn't visiting Lima for my health. I was working, and I had obligations to meet from sunrise to sunset and beyond, every second meticulously scheduled by Odessa in order to keep me away from Will, ironically enough. It was physically painful to me, rising at dawn three mornings in a row, visiting spots of local interest, posing for photo ops, signing autographs, giving out prizes in a local science fair, smiling, smiling, smiling, when inside I knew I was just falling apart, completely unraveling.

Emma was kind enough not to say I told you so, or perhaps genuinely felt no need to do so, being the incarnation of all that was good and pure and whatever. But she felt awful that her advice had led to this. She begged me to let her call him and talk some sense into him, but I refused. I hadn't given her all the details, but I told her enough that she understood it was a hopeless case. The fact was that it was over, everything was over, or at least felt like it was. How it was possible to go on living when I felt so destroyed, I wasn't entirely sure, and please forgive me for being so emo but this was honestly the crisis I experienced. As far as I was concerned, those three days were the first in an infinite line of impossible seconds spent without any hope at all.

The only light at the end of the tunnel was the concert, not because I was especially excited about it (understatement) but because I planned to step off that stage and onto a plane and fly as far away from Lima and Will and all the ghosts and memories as humanly possible. And never, ever return. For such an innocuous little Midwestern town, Lima had managed to ruin my life at least twice and that was two times too many. Clearly it was time to avoid Ohio for good.

When the day of the concert arrived, it was a relief to feel… Well, anything other than disconsolate, really, but relief itself was sweet. I was relieved by the knowledge that in less than 24 hours I'd be somewhere far away. If I could just get through those few hours, things might possibly become just a little easier. That thought gave me a kind of frantic energy, allowed me to move through the day on fast forward only to find myself suddenly standing on the side of the stage, hidden from the crowd, watching Edrington's set. It was freezing, and I was shivering in my brief costume, and how I'd gotten there was a complete mystery.

Before I could contemplate that worrying fact, Odessa came up behind me, placed her hands on my shoulders, squeezed almost imperceptibly. "You look beautiful," she said, stepping around to face me, giving me an encouraging smile, and I responded with a very pale imitation of a grateful one.

"This will be fine, you know," she murmured. "All of this. The show is going to be amazing, Norah. There are 40,000 people in that field out there, all of them screaming for you. You're going to bring them to their knees with what you've written. I know it."

There was a time when that thought would have excited me, when the adoration of crowds would have been enough, would have been all the love I needed. I'd loved that they loved me, and I didn't have to love them back. Now I understood that the kind of love they offered wasn't the kind of love I'd always craved, understood how empty everything was.

Shaking her head at my lack of response, Dess sighed. "Look, you won't tell me what happened Wednesday night and that's fine. Something awful, obviously. But you can't let that hold you back now. You have a show to put on, and you owe it to all of these people to fucking do it."

"I know," I answered. "I know. And I will, I swear. I just… I don't know how I'll manage it."

She gave me a smile, the encouraging one again. I did not feel especially encouraged. "You put all your emotions into the new album and it's… Brilliant, far more brilliant than I ever really gave you credit for. If you can use these emotions you're feeling now, put them into your performance… No one will ever forget this show."

"I don't know if I can do it that way, Dess," I whispered. "I can't stand to feel them as it is… How can I show them to anyone else?"

"I think you have to," she said, and I hated that she was right. "But listen, you should at least go acknowledge the glee kids' existence, they're nervous and alone. I mean, 40,000 people… I think that's more than the population of the entire town, might be just a tad intimidating." She left the And oh by the way you completely ditched both of your scheduled rehearsals with them out, but I knew she was thinking it and I did feel guilty about it. Those rehearsals had been the only responsibilities I'd avoided, just because I couldn't bear to be reminded of their teacher.

"Is Will…?" I asked, trailing off, but she knew what I wanted to know.

"I said alone," she reminded me. "Though your friend Emma is around here somewhere, I think she's here to keep an eye on them from afar. One of the kids told me Will said he couldn't make it, but he knows they'll be incredible."

I wasn't sure if I was pleased to hear this or not. When I'd first heard his kids would be performing, first assumed he'd be there, I'd been upset because I couldn't bear the thought of him hearing the emotions I'd put into my new songs. But after what had happened three nights ago, that wasn't really an issue anymore; he knew all of those things because I'd told him straight out, without musical backing of any kind. Part of me thought that maybe if he'd come, if he could hear those same words sung for 40,000 people, know it was all for him… Maybe I'd sing the exact combination of phrases that would change his mind. It would have been a chance, maybe, but a very small one, and I really doubted I could handle another failure. Perhaps it was for the best. And yet…

"Do you think I'll ever stop feeling this way?" My voice was wistful as I considered the possibility.

If Dess was surprised by my sudden change of subject, she didn't show it. "What way?"

"Like if I could just see him again, for even a single second, everything would be okay," I told her.

"I fucking hope so," she muttered. "Seriously, Norah, you have to get your head in the game. You've got 20 minutes until you play the biggest show of your life. Um, no pressure or anything," she added.

I nodded, tried to focus, tried to do the one thing I'm good at and push everything away, everything except the thought of the performance I was about to give. "Okay. How's my hair?"
Dess snorted, looking at the short, low cut sequined black dress that was my stage costume. "With that oufit, no one will be looking at your hair."

This surprised a laugh from me, a small one, but it was something. "Fair enough. How's the makeup?"

"You look like a porn star," she assured me, as though that were a good thing, then took my hand to lead me to the back. "Let's go."

I took a deep breath, nodded again, forced myself to smile. We stepped down off the risers and several flashbulbs exploded, bright points of light that blinded me until I couldn't see the faces of the reporters or photographers responsible. My smile widened and I waved, following Odessa as she maneuvered me through the small crowd to where the glee kids waited. They looked uncomfortable in the black suits and sequined ties someone had decided were a good idea and over-awed by their surroundings, not that I blamed them. Still smiling, I approached them. "I'm so sorry I haven't been out to say hello sooner."

Kurt raised his eyebrows at me, looking deeply offended. "Mr. Schuester isn't here," he said, his tone accusatory, and I remembered how he'd threatened me last year, how fiercely he'd protected Will. He'd said if I hurt him I'd regret it, and my god had he been right.

I know. "I'm sorry to hear that, I'd looked forward to meeting him." I was doing my best to keep up the charade we'd sold to the press, of course, but I hadn't thought for a moment that the kids wouldn't have figured out the truth by now.

Kurt and the others rolled their eyes. "Oh, please."

"Look, it's none of our business," Mercedes began, though her tone almost shouted that she believed it was, "but can't you just take him back and put us all out of our misery? Because Mr. Schue is clearly miserable."

God, if only it were that easy. I fought the urge to respond by either telling her that she was right and it really wasn't her business, or that she should be having this conversation with him because I wanted nothing more than to take him back. Neither statement was appropriate, I believed. Additionally, being reminded of him just as I'd nearly put him from my mind wasn't helping matters. Was he miserable? Did I want him to be? Could he- But no, Odessa was right, I had to focus, had to get my head in the game.

"Why don't we talk about what's going to happen during the grand finale tonight?" I suggested after a moment of extremely awkward silence. "I'm so sorry I missed our rehearsals, there were some scheduling conflicts… But I've seen information on the routine and I'm really excited about it, it's going to be amazing."

"Yes," Rachel agreed, saving me. "It's simple enough; the fact that you were unable to attend the scheduled rehearsals should hopefully not impact the performance." She gave me a stern look, and I realized I'd just been put firmly in my place by a 16 year-old girl. "We enter directly before Less Than You Settled For and perform a dance routine in the background. Then, on Summerview, we'll provide backing vocals."

I nodded as Rachel grew silent, looking at me expectantly along with all the rest, and it occurred to me that in their teacher's absence, it fell to me to say something reassuring or inspiring or something. "Right," I began, thinking frantically. "I'm not especially good at speeches, especially encouraging ones; I'm sure Wi- Mr. Schuester is great at them. All I can say is that you are all incredibly talented, and I'm proud to share a stage with you. And I hope by the end of the night you'll be able to say the same about me," I added wryly.

Rachel nodded at me, prompting me to continue, but I had nothing to continue with. What else could I possibly say?

"Do you have… Any advice?" she asked, leading me, realizing I had no idea what she expected this pathetic excuse for a pep talk to contain. "For those of us who might be… Frightened? Not that I am, of course, but those without my extensive experience might be."

I got the impression that the rest of them would have liked to scoff at her, but were honestly too nervous themselves to do so.

"Um," I stammered. "Uh, don't be?" Oh yes, very comforting. "Um. I have a mantra, I made it up before my very first show… I just close my eyes and imagine myself on stage, and think Your songs. Your guitar. You can do this. You can do this." The kids all looked at me blankly. "Um, that specific mantra might not work for… Uh, anyone who isn't me, I guess, but the point is, just remind yourself of your talent, of your skill. You're here for a reason. Trust in yourself, you won't fail."

They all looked ever so slightly comforted by this, which was kind of exciting. Rachel nodded once more, indicating I should continue in this vein, but really that was the only advice I had, the only advice I'd ever followed. I was wracking my brain for something else to say, maybe something I'd heard in some kind of underdog-wins-the-day Disney movie (Mighty Ducks? Were these kids even old enough to have seen Mighty Ducks?), when one of the stage hands signaled to me. "Edrington is on their last song," he informed me, and I nodded then turned back to the kids.

"Well, um… Wish me luck? I can't wait to see you guys out there." They all seemed cheered, both by my brief advice and by the idea that I wanted them to wish me luck, and they all did as I returned to my former position at the side of the stage. I stood alone, watching the Edrington quartet finish their performance, trying to clear my mind. A tech handed me my guitar, which I put on with a smooth, practiced motion, calmed by the weight of it against me, the neck in my hand. Your songs, your guitar… You can do this. You can do this. I hadn't used that mantra in years, but like the familiarity of my instrument, it helped me focus and god knows I needed all the help I could get. And then the song was over, and Elliott Edrington was coming straight at me, glaring as he was wont to do when forced into my company.

Without thinking, I grabbed his arm. "Elliott…"

"What?" he snapped, voice brittle, and I felt a twinge of conscience when I realized how much I deserved his animosity. How little I deserved his forgiveness or anyone else's, how unworthy I was, really, of someone like Will. Not just because of what I'd done to him, but because of what I'd done to everyone for a distressingly large portion of my life.

"You were great out there, really great," I said, taking a deep breath, steeling myself. "And I just want you to know, everything that happened… What I did to you… I'm sorry, genuinely sorry. I had no right."

He stared at me, his angry expression morphing into one of shock, which made sense because I'd just shocked the hell out of myself. But it was the kind of thing Will would have done, and I felt better, lighter somehow, thinking I'd done at least one thing he might approve of. It was strange, how just knowing him had changed me, made me want to be better, for him, for myself. Now I understood that what I had done had hurt Elliott, hurt his career, his private life, everything, and I'd done it for no reason at all, and it had been wrong of me, completely wrong. I hoped he knew from those few words how genuinely remorseful I was.

There was a long silence before Elliott finally nodded, once, then tilted his head toward the stage. "You'd better get out there." Okay, it wasn't forgiveness, but it was some kind of start. And honestly, it felt good. I nodded in return before focusing once more on what I was about to do. The crowd was chanting my name, or what was sometimes my name, Romans at the Coliseum, screaming for blood. My blood, my pain, in musical form, and with the new material they would certainly get it. Your songs, your guitar… You can do this. You can do this.

"Okay. Okay."

I took a deep breath and ran out on stage.

TBC

Just a quick note... You guys have gotten fairly spoiled with daily updates, but I want to let you know it might be a few days before I post the next chapters. I really want to post 27, 28, 29 and 30 together, but I'm not fully finished. I'm going to try my level best to take care of it all tomorrow, and post all four chapters tomorrow night, but I also don't want to rush it. So try not to be too upset... You'll have four chapters to read at once soon enough!