Dave Karofsky was sat up in his bed, watching the door as people walked past. He was waiting for his mom to come back with a bag of his own stuff from home. The doctor had said that he'd have to stay one more night, but that he would probably be allowed home tomorrow. Dave liked the idea of going home, but not what might follow after. Going back to school. He sighed. It was going to be a nightmare.

He wondered what it was like there today. Was McKinley even open? Maybe the police were still there; marking every inch of broken glass, every spot of blood in the locker room. There were sure to be wild rumours flying around. He wondered what the rough guess at how many were dead was likely to be...10? 20? He wondered if his name was currently amongst them. Most of the kids would probably find it exciting; some weird dangerous thrill that they'd almost been a part of. It made him feel slightly sick.

He looked to his right. On the hospital nightstand was a clipboard and form. He was supposed to fill it out. It had been there when he had woken up; his mom had said the police had left it. But Dave didn't want to look at it. He knew all the questions would be about remembering, and that was exactly what he didn't want to do right now. All it would achieve would be to bring back the pain. On cue his shoulder twinged. He looked down at it. It was bound so tight that below the joint he could feel nothing. Or maybe that was the result of the painkillers.

He wondered about Blaine and Kurt. To be honest, he'd been wondering about them all morning. Where were they? How were they? His mother hadn't been able to find out anything. In his own mind Dave was slightly annoyed that no one from school had been to see him; not even Kurt. Everyone must really not think that much of him.

A nurse came bustling into the room, carrying a tray of something. She looked up and smiled at him brightly. Dave recognised her as the blurry face he'd woken to, as she'd inspected his bandage that morning.

"Still up and awake are we? You really should try and get a bit more sleep you know."

Dave said nothing.

"Do you want something to do?" She eyed the form lying on the side, but said nothing, crossing to check his blood pressure and the dressing on his arm.

"No, thanks."

"Not a magazine or anything? Is your mom bringing you back some homework for this afternoon?" She laughed brightly at her own joke. Karofsky managed a weak smile.

"Ah, come on. Don't be down in the dumps." She smiled again. Dave had some idea that she must spend a lot of time around little kids. "Look. I brought something for you. It's a bit gruesome, but some people like it." She turned away and picked up the tray she'd been carrying.

Dave looked at it. It was like an unfinished mosaic; but plain. All tiny pieces of clear glass, and one dark, squashed bead, laid out on a square of green paper towel.

"The doctor thought you might see it before it goes over to the police. Some of the psychiatrists seem to think it helps with coming to terms with these kinds of things."

Karofsky's brain was slow. What did she mean? What was she showing him? Was it some kind of game or puzzle he was supposed to complete?

He didn't say anything, just stared at the glittering pieces in confusion.

Watching him, she pointed to the single odd piece; the large bead thing. "Look," she said, nudging it gently with her nail. It rolled a short distance, before ending up on its flat surface.

"What is it? What are they?"

Her face grew worried for a second, breaking the childlike playfulness, and she slowly moved her finger to point at his arm. "It's the glass and the pellet. What the surgeon took from your arm?" There was a pause. Dave was completely horrified. The nurse bit her lip anxiously.

"Sorry; I think I misjudged this one. I'll just take them away, ok? The police'll want them anyway..."

"No…no, wait a second." Dave looked at the fragments. There were so many of them. They'd been part of the school, part of the door, and then part of him. It was disgusting; but, the nurse was right, oddly fascinating. The bullet was annoyingly small for all the pain and harm it had caused. He stretched out his good hand, and then hesitated.

"Can I…?"

The nurse nodded. "They get covered in disinfectant in surgery, so it's only the ballistics that's of any use to the police." Dave didn't understand the word. "The shape. How it got squished."

He picked it up in his fingers and weighed it in his palm. It was no lighter or heavier than he'd expected. The ridges and curves of its surface were both smooth and sharp. He tossed it lightly into the air and caught it again, without pain. He put it back on the tray. It made a light tinkling noise as it dropped, rattling the pieces of glass.

"Thanks."

"No problem. If you need anything, just let me know." She began to walk back towards the door.

"Wait…wait…" Dave had to try something. The nurse turned around.

"Megan; my name's Megan." She pointed to a name badge, half hidden under her long brown hair.

"Miss…Megan. Could you do something for me?"

"Anything." She smiled her smile again.

"I want to see my friends. I want to know if they're ok."

"Alright, honey. Do you want a phone connection?"

"No…no. I think they're already here…"

Will Schuester stood in the doorway to the choir room. Police tape barred his entrance. The floor, as far as he could see, was studded with paper markers. Bright splinters stood out against the dark black of the piano and the window ledge. There was a hole in the roof, and another in the wall. Chairs were overturned; but in the midst of all the chaos, Kurt's jacket and bag still sat, resting on his chair as if Will had only just missed him.

Around him the school was quiet. The police had insisted on it stay closed for one more day. Will had already passed by a frenzied crew working in and around the locker room. Glass had been thrown half way down the corridor. Walking on towards the stairs, a route he must have taken a hundred times, Will had found a further corner taped off. The outline of a stain of something sat in the middle of the square. He'd read Blaine's name on one of the paper cards there and shuddered.

Other teachers had also been allowed into sections of the school, and Will had passed Figgins on his wanderings. The principal seemed to have grown older by years overnight; although Will suspected he himself looked just as bad. After spending the night awake on Emma's floor he hadn't even bothered to wash. Without his kids there was hardly anyone worth making an effort for.

Passing the gutted cafeteria he had come to the choir room. But he hadn't stayed long. Passing out down a fire escape he'd climbed back to the car park. Lines of students and snooping locals had gathered against the police lines, along with local news and radio stations. As Will passed through them he heard wilder and wilder rumours: "Basically, I know one of the people who were sent in, and he said there was blood everywhere…it was this whole gang of psychos…"

"I heard he had a knife, and carved his name on all the walls…like the Shining…"

"I heard three people died, but it was too horrific…so the police can't say that it's true yet…"

"No way; who?"

"Um…like, a cheerleader, a jock and this new kid…and then the gun guy shot himself so the police wouldn't get him…but he shot like ten cops first…"

"That's so not true; if it was you'd know their names. But I know what really happened…"

As each new voice spoke up the dynamic of the crowd shifted to surround them. Everyone was really getting his or her five minutes.

He reached his car and stepped inside. His next stop was the hospital; and whatever truth that would shed upon the questions in his own mind.