A/N: Sorry for the slight delay, this was quite a difficult episode to write! My OCs take up a bit more time in this one, but many other loose ends regarding the other characters are being addressed here as well. Enjoy! (:

EPISODE EIGHTEEN – "Give Me Time"

A very deep, moving bass beat issued from the keyboard. The glee club immediately stopped fidgeting and looked at Finn, who broke into a smile as he made eye contact with everyone in the choir room while singing,

We have... the chance to turn the pages over

Will nodded slightly to show his approval of the song.

We can write what we want to write
We gotta make ends meet, before we get much older

Finn's baritone rang richly before moving into the tenor region, but he remained confident as he sang,

We're all someone's daughter
We're all someone's son
How long can we look at each other... down the barrel of a gun?

Mike mimed pointing a gun at Josie, who giggled and knocked his fingers down. Finn eyed them amusedly, then as the music burst into its climactic moment, he held out his hands,

You're the voice, try and understand it
Make a noise and make it clear

Everyone joined in to sing,

Whoa-o-o-o... whoa-o-o-o...

Finn pumped his fist up while singing,

We're not gonna sit in silence
We're not gonna live with fear
(Everyone) Whoa-o-o-o... whoa-o-o-o...

Puck and Rachel exchanged smiles as Finn continued to sing,

This time... we know we all stand together
With the power to be powerful
Believing we can make it better

Will surveyed his group of students and suddenly felt a pang of bittersweet emotion as he thought of how in a few months' time, they would complete Nationals and most of them would graduate from McKinley High. There never had been a group that had touched him as much as the New Directions had, and he would sorely miss their presence.

Ooh... we're all someone's daughter
We're all someone's son
How long can we look at each other
Down the barrel of a gun?

Will looked back at Finn. He had truly blossomed – from a jock who just did everything according to the social flow and lived by the day, to a leader who had the guts to pursue his dreams and work hard at them. And now he was standing in the middle of the choir room, belting out an inspirational song for his fellow members.

You're the voice, try and understand it
Make a noise and make it clear
(Everyone) Whoa-o-o-o... whoa-o-o-o...
We're not gonna sit in silence
We're not gonna live with fear
(Everyone) Whoa-o-o-o... whoa-o-o-o...

When Finn finished, Rachel stood up and clapped fervently. She beamed at Puck, who smirked and joined in the applause.

"Thanks, Finn," said Mercedes, smiling. "That was sweet of you."

Finn pumped his fist into the air again. "We're gonna make a noise and make it clear at Nationals!"

Everyone burst out laughing and giggling at his enthusiasm.

Finn walked out of the choir room feeling rather buoyant by everybody's cheered faces. He marched down the hallway with a swagger, but the moment he turned a corner, a familiar (and rude) stinging icy sensation hit his face. He swore loudly as he swiped away at the red slushie, shivering as the ice got down his shirt and even down his trousers.

"Cut it out!" he yelled.

Rachel was the last to leave the choir room after trying to persuade Will about some ideas regarding the school musical. The moment she walked out, she bumped into a bunch of jocks.

"Sorry!"

But before she could balance herself from that bump, there was a snigger, followed by an avalanche of oh, ouch! OUCH! EEEKKKK! on her.

"Oh myy..." She shivered as she attempted to part her slushie-matted bangs.

A corridor away, Santana had also rounded a corner to get to her locker when purple slushie was hurled into her face before she could match the attacker's name to his face. She uttered a string of vulgar Spanish as she flailed her arms around wildly. Brittany caught up with her and was about to drag her to the bathroom when she saw the flash of letterman jackets disappear round the bend.

Those letterman jackets appeared soon after, once again armed with slushies – this time blue – and were headed towards two boys who were chatting by their lockers.

Puck looked up first. "Hey." He frowned. "What's up, Fuller? Thought hockey prac's tomorrow." He eyed Sam, then rolled his eyes. "With The Talented Mr. Reilly."

Fuller smirked. "Aw yeah, he'll be in all our games for all his talent. But I get to take charge of this one."

"Which one?" asked Sam, confused.

Puck closed his locker and saw that there was another group of letterman jackets on the other side of him, this time led by Azimio.

"Whoa," said Puck, staring at the slushie cups in the footballers' hands. Then he turned slightly to stare skeptically at Fuller's team of boys. "You guys have a fun time slushying each other. I don't care for slushie hallway wars."

"Oh man, this ain't a war," said Azimio, sniggering. "Not when one party's got no defence."

And that was when Puck and Sam found themselves both drenched in copious amounts of slushie.

-.-.-.-.-.-

"Sam spent like the whole night scrubbing that goo out of his hair." Mercedes held up a finger furiously, in the middle of the hallway the next day. "I'm tellin' ya, they ain't drowning us in slushie AGAIN!"

"Yeah, they," muttered Kurt. "Times two, this time round."

"What did we do to irk the hockey team?" Tina wondered aloud. "Why're they in this too?"

"Nationals period is the time when all the testosterone gets edgy," explained Artie. "Stress and egotism intensifies the hormones and with the increased heart rate? Altogether, a really lethal combination."

"Lethal my ass," said Mercedes. "They slushie on my boys and girls again, I'll shatter their eardrums with some Mariah. Throw in some jazz hands too, I'll see to that!"

"Finn now thinks his inspirational singing is a jinx," Kurt added.

The sight of letterman jackets in the distance had them throwing on their raincoat hoodies. Kurt had once again thrown on the Dolce & Gabbana see-through raincoat, remarking that it had served him well during the last heroic slushie sacrifice.

"We're living in fear again," moaned Tina. All of them clung onto their hoods and clustered together as they headed towards class.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Santana, clad in a waterproof jacket with a hood, made her way to Brittany's locker once lessons were over. She was halfway tying a band to the lock when Brittany spotted her and grinned widely.

"What's that?" asked Brittany.

Santana jumped at the sound of her voice, then laughed. "Be a little subtle next time and let me finish this."

"Is that a friendship band?" Brittany's face lit up. "My fingers are kinda too big to make little plaits in threads, I kinda prefer messing up people's hair for that."

"It's a..." Santana tied the last knot. "It's a bit of that. And good luck. My mom taught me how to make it when I was younger. Probably didn't think I was going to do it for a girl, but..." She shrugged.

Brittany pulled her into a hug. "That's so sweet of you."

Santana beamed and hugged Brittany tightly. "You're not wearing waterproof stuff."

"The last time they tried, I did a mega-pirouette and sent the slushie flying back in their faces. In the end, I wasn't even that wet."

Santana laughed. "You're so much smarter than people give you credit for, Britt!"

"Hey, girls..."

Santana and Brittany immediately let go of each other. Santana stared skeptically at the hooded-intruder. "Lawrence? What do you want?"

Grace clutched at her hood and looked left and right, then put on a most uncomfortable expression. "I need some help. Like, girl help."

"You mean, like bed help," said Santana, rolling her eyes. "Those are I-wanna-get-laid-but-I-dunno-how eyes."

"Lower it, will you?" hissed Grace.

"Ooh, someone here's itching to lose the V-card, it seems," said Santana, chuckling. "Who's the dude?"

"Hey." Another interruption. Santana and Brittany's eyes widened as they saw Shawn put a hand on Grace's waist. "I'll see you after my practice?"

"Y-yeah," said Grace, breathily. "Sure."

"What's with the hood?"

"N-nothing. Umm... bad skin today."

"Oh. My mom's got some really awesome night cream. I'll get some for you."

"S-sure," said Grace, still unable to breathe properly. "Thanks!"

Shawn gave quick nods to Santana and Brittany before he left.

"That's the target?" Santana stared after Shawn. "Damn, it must suck not to hear him scream if you guys are doing it. He is delicious."

"First up, you're a lesbian," said Grace, bringing Santana back to reality, "and second of all, my hearing aid works fine now, thank you very much. I'm here for tips, not for details."

"Aw, come on, he looks like he's experienced to the max," said Santana, chortling. "What tips could you possibly need?"

"Cheese," said Brittany, at once. "Cheese fondue. It's always a good start."

Santana and Grace both stared at her.

"Whets your appetite!" Brittany exclaimed. "Didn't you know that? Gets people talking too."

"Not too much talking," warned Santana. "Too much talking breaks the spell."

"If you have a cat, make sure he's out of the way."

"Yeah, a bruised ass from tripping over it isn't going to help matters," said Santana, slightly embarrassed.

"Right," said Grace, trying to process it all as Santana and Brittany continued to talk. "Right."

-.-.-.-.-.-

Artie wheeled towards his locker and bent over to unlock it. He pulled out a few books onto his lap, transferred a file from his bag back in, then shut it. The moment he turned around, he found himself surrounded by Letterman jackets.

Artie gulped and instinctively drew his hood tightly around his face. The last time this happened, it had ended with him having nightmares for two straight weeks about being dunked in a sea of red slushie and never surfacing again.

But then he realised that there were no slushie cups in their hands.

"Hi," he managed to squeak. "Good day to you guys. I must be going."

He attempted to wheel away, but Azimio shoved him back into the locker. Artie quivered as the boy leant closer.

"I'll make sure it'll be a better day."

With that, Azimio swiped his hand across Artie's face, knocking his spectacles off. Artie gasped and tried to grab it back, but it was impossible to see where it landed. He stared back helplessly at the blurred figures before him and tried to lean down, but somebody was blocking his way.

Then it happened all too suddenly.

When one can't see, one gets sensitive to movements. And Artie could sense something moving behind the wall of footballers before they could even react. Suddenly, Strando roared in pain as he fell to the ground on his knees while another yelped and grabbed at a third, pulling him down. One by one, the footballers were crippled to the ground and Artie couldn't even see what was happening other than the fact that the wall was crumbling.

Azimio spun around to deal with the silent attacker – he grabbed the hand before it could connect with his face.

"Well, well..." Azimio sneered. "If it isn't the pretty chino lady showing her kungfu skills."

Artie squinted. Although he couldn't see, he had a rather good idea of who that was.

"No..." he whispered.

Azimio swung his arm, but the girl dodged neatly and kneed him straight in the balls. Azimio let out a roar of anger and shoved her into the other end of lockers. By the time she had returned to the scene, Strando was up and ready for her. She swung her fist where he least expected, and he crumbled to the ground once again.

"Natalie!" Artie yelled, but he was too late. Azimio had swung his fist once again and she was too late to react.

There was a soft cry, but then Azimio was being pushed back and slammed against the lockers till Artie could feel his entire wheelchair rattling.

"Hey, break it up! BREAK IT UP!" It was Coach Beiste's booming voice.

Azimio was tugged forward again; he struggled as the other party tried to get a grip on him.

Then he was slammed into the lockers a second time, but before he could lunge back, a hulking presence was standing between him and Natalie.

Coach Beiste was yelling something, but Artie couldn't focus because there was a hand on his shoulder. Then he felt something pressed into his hands.

Artie fumbled with the spectacles and put them on, only to see the new boy Shawn Reilly looking at him with deep concern. He nodded clumsily, then looked back in amazement at the scene before him. Coach Beiste was yelling her head off at Azimio, who was heaving and wheezing in pain. The rest of the footballers were all scrambling up from the floor, but in visible agony as well. Strando had a cut on his cheek and was a picture of rage. But most of all...

Natalie was standing at the other end, being held back by another teacher. Her lip was cut, her cheek was decolourising quickly and her hair was in a complete mess. She swore loudly as the teacher firmly kept her back. There were whispers all around, followed by urgent footsteps. Artie could barely think anymore as he was whisked off to first aid.

-.-.-.-.-.-

When the nurse had finished putting some ointment on the side of Artie's face where Azimio had roughly shoved his spectacles off, she made her way past the curtain to the other side of the room where Artie assumed Natalie must be. He touched his face gingerly and winced. Natalie's bruises must be ten times worse, he thought.

"Hey, can I come in?"

Artie stared in surprise at Shawn, who had poked his head past the door. "Sure."

Shawn inserted the rest of his body into the room. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Artie rubbed his nose. "Thanks."

Shawn stared at the curtain. "She okay?"

"I hope so," said Artie, nervously.

"Well, I mean, physically, 'cos other than that, she's totally screwed," said Shawn, candidly. "They're going to expel her."

"No!" gasped Artie. "No, no, no... this is all a mistake..."

Artie wheeled across and tugged the curtain aside. Natalie was sitting on the bed, wincing at every dab the nurse was giving her face.

"Natalie, you're not going to get expelled," said Artie, in a rush. "I'm telling Figgins that this is all because–"

He stopped short. Not only was Natalie in pain, she was also shaking. Her fingers were trembling and she was breathing very hard.

"Could you two please let me finish this?" the nurse demanded.

"We need to speak to her," said Shawn, surprising Artie. "I think I can handle that."

The nurse gave a huff and handed the ointment over to Shawn, then left the room. Artie wheeled up to Natalie and attempted to take her hand, but she snatched it back and held it to her chest, as though willing it to stop shaking.

"Nat?" whispered Artie.

Shawn put the ointment aside. Then he noticed a piece of paper on the table and scanned through it quickly. His eyebrows knotted together. Then he pulled a chair over, sat down and looked keenly at Natalie.

"Stop. Looking. At. Me." Natalie uttered every word with barely-controlled rage.

"I'm not judging you," said Shawn.

"Yes, you are!" Natalie glared at him coldly, still clutching her hands to her chest. "You're always standing there and judging me for what I do!"

"Shh, shh..." Artie tried to reach out, but her arms jerked out and he had to wheel back.

"Sorry," said Shawn, quietly. He picked up the piece of paper and held it in front of Natalie. "I didn't know what you were going through."

Artie snatched the paper from Shawn and read through it. Then he stared at Natalie. "You have impulse control issues?"

Natalie shut her eyes tightly.

"So... so that's why you hurt Hannah so badly," said Artie, light dawning upon him. "Natalie..."

"Don't," whispered Natalie. "Don't. Say. Anything."

Just then, Coach Beiste came into the sick bay. She looked at the trio and cleared her throat. "When Miss Yang is done with treating her injuries, Principal Figgins would like to see her in the office."

Natalie's face was twitching with rage.

"Coach?" asked Artie. "Can I come along, please? It's not what you guys saw."

"Unfortunately, Mr Abrams, it's your word against many others," said Coach Beiste, kindly. "And we all know you and Miss Yang are close friends."

"But..."

"My word too," said Shawn, suddenly. "I suppose that counts, because I don't even know Natalie that well."

"Mr Reilly," said Coach Beiste, a little ungraciously now. "You weren't even there when the attack occurred, it seems."

Natalie was breathing so heavily that all three of them could hear it. Coach Beiste glanced at her, then back at Shawn, who shrugged and said,

"I was at the back. I saw it all. Azimio hurt her first."

Artie stared at Shawn. Even with his limited vision, he knew very well that hadn't been the case.

"But Mr Reilly, many accounts have said otherwise..."

"I suppose those many accounts happen to be Azimio's friends as well?" asked Shawn.

Coach Beiste frowned, then she cleared her throat again. "Alright, I'll see you three in the principal's office then. Take care of those bruises, young lady." With that, she left the room.

Natalie opened her eyes and looked at Shawn. Then she took a deep breath before she finally asked, "Why? Why would you... why would you say that?"

Shawn sucked at his bottom lip, then smiled thinly. "Righting a wrong, perhaps." He winced. "I assumed too much about you. My bad."

"She's good." Artie's tone was vehement.

"And I won't stand for discrimination against..." Shawn pointed to the paper that Artie was holding. "This. I've known people who are suffering from anxiety, depression, anorexia and all kinds of disorders, and schools give them crap for it because they don't know how to deal with these cases. And if you've managed to stay here all this while without it acting up till today, I think that's pretty decent."

Artie looked at Natalie, whose hands were not trembling as badly anymore.

Shawn took the ointment from the table and gave it to Artie. As Artie unscrewed the bottle, Natalie reached out for Shawn's wrist and whispered,

"Thank you."

Shawn nodded gently in response.

-.-.-.-.-.-

"Hey, homeboy, whatchyou been doin', huh?" One of the hockey players approached Shawn just as he was turning round the corner from Principal Figgins' office. "Gone to stick up for that wild child?"

Shawn stopped short and turned to look at Jake Fuller with an arched eyebrow. "Wow, I didn't know you cared so much about me, Fuller. Gee, thanks."

Fuller shoved him on one shoulder and glared at him. "You wanna be our captain, you stick by what we do. And we don't mess with people till they mess with us. You clear on that?"

Shawn brushed his jacket nonchalantly. "Well, since I'm the captain, I get to set my own rules, yeah?"

"Don't be a cocky bastard, Reilly. You've been foolin' around just within a couple of weeks, getting yourself all tied up in the laces of sick girls..."

"Don't push it," warned Shawn.

"What? Am I wrong?" Fuller eyed someone behind Shawn, and Shawn turned around to see Grace standing at the far end, twiddling with her locker. She cast a slightly longing look at a crowd of Cheerios, but Ingrid merely ushered them away with a lingering spiteful look back at Grace.

Fuller chuckled. "I'll see you on the pitch later, Reilly. Always watch ya back."

Shawn merely rolled his eyes and walked past Fuller with his hands firmly stuck into his jean pockets. He went straight to Grace and the girl was pleasantly surprised.

"Hey, handsome," said Grace, beaming. Then she looked at him coyly. "Are you free tonight?"

"Dinner at Breadstix would be great," said Shawn, with a wink.

"I was thinking..." Grace drew imaginary circles on his arm. "Maybe you'd like to come hang out at my place?"

Shawn looked thoughtfully at her. "What's there to do at your place?"

Grace blinked, then she gestured a little as she spoke, "Well... maybe we could have a nacho snack and watch Ellen on the telly, then y'know... maybe go to my room and..." She put on a most innocent look.

Shawn patted down stray strands of her red hair, making her blush. "Does going to your room involve the bed?"

Grace's jaw fell open. Then she looked a bit awkward before morphing her look into something more sultry. "Well, that's what the bedroom's for, isn't it?"

Shawn nodded. "Yeah, exactly. But if so, then I think I'll pass over tonight."

"But..." Grace stared at him. "But why?"

"Call me old-fashioned, but I think the bed is factored in only after the fifteenth date," said Shawn, calmly. "So, Breadstix?"

"Wait! I mean..." Grace's mind had already been conjuring all the kinds of things she was going to prepare for the room, thanks to Santana and Brittany's sagely advice, and now Shawn was pricking the huge bubble of thoughts. "No, we can still have the nacho telly party!"

"Ah, but you see, once the bed was in the initial equation, it kinda stays there," said Shawn. "So I'm not gonna risk it." He shrugged. "Takers? Leavers?"

Grace wasn't really sure how to respond. All her ideas were now in a haze of what now?

Shawn's smile dimmed. "Grace?"

"Is it because..." Grace felt tears well up in her eyes as she subconsciously touched her ear.

"Grace..." Shawn rolled his eyes. "We've been through this. You're perfectly normal, and if people want to think–"

"No," interrupted Grace. "That you've been getting yourself all tied up in laces of sick girls. Like meaning, someone else. Like meaning... like today!"

Shawn was taken aback. "What about today?"

Grace stared at him incredulously. "Ingrid saw you and she's been giving me hell ever since, laughing that I'm seeing someone who's gonna stick up for damsels in distress all the time. She said you only appeared round the corner when that crazed bitch rounded upon Azimio – you didn't even see anything! Why'd you go tell Figgins she did nothin' wrong?"

Realising what she was talking about, Shawn sighed. "It clearly wasn't her fault."

"And like you would know? That girl's got a thing. She was freakin' expelled for violence before, how'd you know–"

"Is it not a thing in glee club to stick up for your fellow members?" asked Shawn, with genuine curiosity. "Why'd you put her down like that?"

Grace gaped at him.

"Maybe that's why the glee club doesn't get very far in this school," said Shawn, matter-of-factly. He picked up his bag. "I'm sorry, I think I have to go."

"Shawn, wait..."

Shawn turned and looked at her. "You can call me a prude or whatever you like, but I take things slow. If you wanna be my girlfriend, that's how it's gonna have to be, 'cos throwing yourself at me isn't going to make me like you any better."

"Shawn! I..." Grace was mortified. "Okay, Breadstix? Toni–

But he was gone.

-.-.-.-.-.-

"Today's lunch isn't very enticing, is it?"

Artie stopped poking at his lunch. Then he left his fork on the plate. "Yeah."

Tina sat down with her lunch tray, then she looked at him. "Does it still hurt?"

Artie smiled wryly. "Trust me, nothing beats the day I got downed with eleven cups of sticky ice. That was traumatic. This was just..." His smile grew wider. "Slightly more exciting."

Tina picked up her spoon and dug it into the mash. "Natalie wasn't expelled."

Artie nodded. "Yeah. Figgins was pretty cool with Shawn's and my explanations."

Tina was not convinced, however. "I heard she's suffering from some... some control problem. Why don't you let her go – seek some help or something?"

"Oh, she will. But part of that help is integration, and I'm gonna do all that I can to make sure she deals with things calmly and steadily."

Tina's breath hitched slightly. She shoved a spoonful of mash into her mouth.

"Tina?" Artie raised an eyebrow. "What's wrong?"

Tina swallowed, then looked away as she asked quietly, "I – I hope it goes well."

"Nat's therapy? Yeah, I hope so too."

"And... and your relationship with her." Tina broke into a smile. "It's amazing how much you look out for her."

Artie was about to say 'sure, thanks' when he saw something else in Tina's eyes. Then he gaped and reached out for her hand. "Tina!"

Startled, Tina snatched back her hand. Artie had the grace to look embarrassed and he retrieved his hand. Then he groaned. "Tina, it's not like that."

"What's not like what?" asked Tina, not looking at Artie at all.

"We are so talking in riddles," said Artie, tilting his head back. "Tina, Natalie and I are not dating."

Tina turned to stare at him. "Huh?" Then she glared at him. "Don't be a douchebag, Artie. That's a horrible thing to say!"

"Me? A douchebag?" Artie snorted. "That's what everybody thinks, don't they? Including you."

Tina's eyes flashed.

Artie sighed. "We're not dating. She's just – just like my best friend. We've settled this a long, long time ago 'cos to be honest, since the year started, if there was anybody I'd have a relationship with, it'd be her." He shrugged. "But it just doesn't work that way."

"Why not?" asked Tina. Her insides were churning for some inexplicable reason.

"I don't know," said Artie, flicking his fork to the other end of the plate. "Maybe it's just because I can't seem to forget someone else. My heart's kinda narrow. Always been narrow-minded too."

"I get that. Always so one-tracked in your pursuit of things," said Tina, idly. "Once you had Halo, there's no place for a girl."

Artie winced. "Alright, I deserved that. C'mon, I'm sure there's more."

"Very tempted to smash this mash into your face too."

Artie pointed to the bruise on the side of his face. "Don't touch this one."

Tina snorted, then lowered her head back to her food.

"Tee..."

Tina's heart leapt when she heard that. No one else other than Artie had ever called her by that nickname and he had only used it on very special occasions when they dated, because he had said "Tina's a beautiful name and you should be proud of it, but Tee's for when I really want you to know that there's something special between the both of us that goes far beyond just a mere relationship."

"It's been a rough year," said Artie, quietly. "Heck, a rough couple of years. We've been dancing around all the time just avoiding the break-up. It's been gnawing at me though. I know I was a jerk. I know you tried to deal with it once but I blew you off to duet with Brittany, which didn't come to much anyway. I know you tried to be friendly but I insulted you–"

"Zombie whore cheerleader? You go boy," muttered Tina.

Artie scratched his ear. "And then you got Mike and I got Britt and I thought hey, we're in our happy places now, you know? There's no giant elephant in the room anymore."

Tina gripped her fork. "We loved them."

Artie nodded. "But there's always something missing, Tee. I don't know what, but I feel like..." He stared at her. "I feel like there's only one time when I really felt like everything was alright, and that was with you."

Tina could feel tears stinging her eyes.

"Tee..."

"Artie," she whispered. "I need some breathing space."

Artie looked regretfully at her.

"I think we both do," said Tina.

Artie bit his lip, then nodded. "Yeah. Maybe... just think of it as starting your life again?"

Tina chuckled nervously. "I'm trying." She fiddled with the fork. "I... I applied for community theatre near my house. And I've gotten a place in the upcoming play for the holidays."

Artie's eyes shone. "That's great, Tina."

"Mm."

"Sing something this week," he urged. "Show everyone what you're made of. Do it for..." He cleared his throat. "Do it for yourself."

It was Kurt who sang first as Tina and him stood in the middle of the choir room. He had been slightly resistant to singing the male part, but seeing as Tina truly wanted to sing that song and he was the best musical theatre option for a male that she had, he relented.

One light shines in the drive
One single sign that our house is alive
Our house, our own
So why do I live there alone?

Maybe it wasn't so bad singing this song, thought Kurt. It seemed to resonate a little with him.

Tell me why I wait through the night
And why do I leave on the light?
You know, I know... our house was a home long ago

Tina took over, her eyes shining as she and Kurt exchanged looks.

Take this chance, 'cos it may be our last to free
To let go of the past
And to try, to be husband and wife
To let our love never die, or to just live our life

Together they held hands and sang in harmony,

Take my hand, and let me take your heart
Keep it far from what keeps up apart
Let us start with a light in the dark

Artie smiled, glanced over at the empty seat beside him (for Natalie had taken the week off), then looked back intently at Tina once again. Kurt saw Rachel's eyes glimmering, then Mercedes who had a hand on her chest, followed by Santana whose lips were pressed together as she leant against Brittany. He swallowed the lump in his throat, then began to sing,

Night falls, I stare at the walls (Tina: I stare at these walls)
I wake and wander the halls (Tina: I get lost in these halls)
And I ache to the bone (Tina: It's like nothing I've known)

And together, they sang,

I can't get through this alone

Tina took the final verse, her gaze locked on Artie as her pure voice rang out,

Take this chance, and we'll make a new start
Somewhere far from what keeps us apart
And I swear that somewhere in the night, there's a light

She paused, her eyes drifting slightly to find Mike, who gave the slightest of nods, even though she could tell bitterness laced his bottom lip. Then she looked back at Artie, who had the most content of expressions on his face.

A light in the dark

-.-.-.-.-.-

"You need a tan."

"And how is that supposed to help matters?"

"It shows that you're healthy, Hummel. Healthy is good. All parents want their kids to be healthy. Show them gay blood doesn't make you unhealthy."

"Santana, I hope you do realise that sexual orientation isn't determined by your blood type."

"Metaphor."

"Creepy."

"It's gonna be a bloodbath anyway. I was talking about a tan. How did we get to this?"

"Ask yourself."

"Okay, here they come."

Santana grabbed hold of Kurt's hand to stop him from hyperventilating as they peeked round the corner to see Blaine's parents walking in their direction. Quickly, Santana pulled Kurt back into the classroom and sat him in the chair.

"Oh my God," said Kurt, flailing his arms about once Santana had let go of his hands. "What if I say something stupid? Like... like... I don't know they'll start to stereotype every single movement and ever single word and I'm going to be so cautious and I'll sound like a stupid robot and..."

"Whoa, Kurt, whoa!" Santana slapped a towel against his forehead. "Relax. I'm here. I couldn't get Dave to come 'cos he's got football practice, but you've got me, okay? Shut up and calm down."

"That sounds extremely therapeutic, thank you," said Kurt, grabbing at the towel. "I think they'd stereotype you first! Oh boy, oh boy..."

The door opened and Kurt froze.

"Not again!" Robert Anderson threw up his hands. "For the last time, I..." He turned to glare at Will beside him. "I've had enough of this school administration bluffing me into skipping my meetings just to come down to meet with this boy here, okay? This is beyond ridiculous! I'm lodging a complaint to the school board..."

"About having a meeting with a perfectly legitimate student organisation?" Santana folded her arms. "I'd like to hear you add in the fact that you just can't stand the sight of it because of what it stands for."

"You..." Irene failed to continue and merely clutched at her dress.

Robert glared at her. "This is none of your business, young lady."

"Oh, of course it is," said Santana.

"Santana!" Will warned, but she ignored him, merely placing her hand on Kurt's shoulder as she said, as professionally as she could, "Do you know an organisation like ours can save lives?"

Blaine appeared from behind Irene, and Kurt had to stop himself from leaping out of the chair. Santana locked gazes with Blaine, then whipped out a couple of pamphlets (the only ones in Emma's office she could find, admittedly, such as 'Hag Problems' and 'Boys Are Gross: A Misconception').

"There are kids who don't want to carry on in this world because of people like you," said Santana. "People who don't accept them."

Robert gave a huff, but Will had closed the door behind him. Robert and Irene both stared at him incredulously, but Will politely gestured to the seats before him.

"And to be honest, we didn't even need the PFLAG before. Your son was happy," said Santana, causing the Andersons to flinch. "He had a great, loving, stable relationship, something I envied to the core because I was stuck in the closet fighting a war with the whole world and myself for that matter. I thought Blaine had parents who supported him to the end and allowed him to be the proud, confident boy that he was. And you know what? Despite all the gay jokes that I make about him, in the end he's known for other things apart from his sexual orientation. He's the ex-Warbler, the one with the colourful – okay, shoot, that's the gay bit – the one with the sassy dance moves and not to mention, that hobbit size." Santana winked at Blaine, who couldn't help cracking a sad smile. "Seriously, you guys aren't even that short, I don't know how he is so freakishly minute." Santana pulled out a chair and sat down, crossing her legs daintily. "And that is what you use the word 'freak' for."

"Are you done?" asked Robert, curtly. He rolled up his sleeve to eye his watch, then drummed his fingers on the table. "Okay then, my time's up. I'm only here to finalise my discussion with Principal Figgins about Blaine's transfer, which is taking ridiculously long to process considering his transfer in was hassle-free! Come on, Irene..."

"Why?"

Robert stopped short and looked back at Kurt, who had uttered that single word with a shuddering breath.

Blaine closed his eyes.

"Why what?" whispered Irene, her lips trembling.

"Why won't you accept him?" Kurt asked, eyeing Blaine, who was looking intensely at him. "Look at your son."

Robert and Irene instinctively turned to look at Blaine, who completely avoided eye contact with them.

"Have you ever thought about how helpless he is because all you do is to deny who he is?"

"I won't have you–" Robert began.

"You're not listening!" Santana exploded. "You think just because we're kids we have no idea who we are and what we want? But just think about it, if your parents keep telling you, no, it's not right who you are. Follow our plans and get with a girl you don't love, go to business school when you have no interest in it, just listen to us because we know we're right. Sure, Blaine can do all that. In fact, he was really going to carry all that out!"

"Yes."

Another voice floated into the room as the door opened, and everyone turned to see Cheryl standing at the entrance.

"Cheryl dear," said Irene, but she was unable to say anymore. Blaine's eyes widened. He looked at Kurt, who nodded.

"He really was going to carry it out," said Cheryl, quietly. "I thought I was just going to help out for a while... while he figures out how to work it out with you, Mr. and Mrs. Anderson. I've known Blaine for so long, back in our old high school. I've known he's been gay for that long. And then he calls me begging me to act as his girlfriend so that the two of you will smile at him once again. He literally said that."

Irene choked, while Robert gripped the armrest of the chair.

"I'm sorry, Kurt," said Cheryl, honestly. "The day Blaine told you about me... I saw your face. I'm really sorry."

Kurt shook his head gently. "Thank you for supporting him, Cheryl."

Blaine's head bobbed in response.

"I didn't do all this so that I can get back with Blaine," said Kurt, in a low voice, towards Robert and Irene. "I've been horrid to him myself and I'm not forgiving myself for it. All I want is for him to be accepted by you, his parents. The people who are most important in his life. You are the people he falls back on if the people whom he falls in love with break his heart." Kurt's eyes welled up with tears and Blaine looked away once again.

"It's a horrid world out there," said Robert, although his resolve was no longer as strong as before. "It's a cruel, cruel world out there..."

"All the more he needs you to guide him through this cruel world, and it's not by denying his identity!" said Kurt. "I was so lucky I have a father who accepts me for who I am and stands up for me, so I can hold my head up high in this school and not care about what others think. I was bullied before too, but now that I know that the glee club is behind me, I'm not afraid anymore. Blaine's been used to being in this crap alone; he doesn't want to bother anyone else, but he needs to know that there are people around who will help and he shouldn't be afraid of letting them know."

Kurt stared at Blaine. "Do you hear me?"

Blaine swallowed hard. He really didn't know what to say anymore. He had tried so hard to tell his parents, but nothing ever came out right. Even when Dave came over, he was only momentarily strengthened by his support – soon after, he retreated into his shell again. And here were Kurt and Santana saying everything that he had always wanted to say, but more succinctly and more confidently. Somehow he always faltered in front of his parents because he never wanted them to be miserable.

"We're behind Blaine," said Santana. "We've had a pretty rough time this week too, jocks just slushying us for no rhyme or reason. But that's what life is like, isn't it? You get handed crap; the only way to do it is either you throw it back at the person's face or you use that crap to remind you to be a strong person. As his friends, we've got his back. As his parents?" She eyed Robert and Irene, who were extremely pale by now.

Blaine was crying. Then slowly, Irene reached out to pull him towards her. Tears were streaming down her face as well. Robert didn't look too convinced, but he didn't argue anymore. Will looked at them, patted Cheryl on the shoulder, then nodded at Santana.

"Come with us to the auditorium," said Santana. "We want to show you something. Especially you, Blaine."

She lowered her voice so only Kurt could hear her. "I could write a Chicken Soup for parents with gay teens with all that talk."

There were a series of ooh-oohs, a capella style, as Blaine, his parents and Cheryl entered the auditorium. Santana and Kurt made their way on stage while Will took his seat at the director's desk. The New Directions were dressed in all colours and standing in a semicircle. Artie wheeled himself to the centre of the stage and began singing,

When the night has come
And the land is dark
And the moon is the only light we see

Blaine began to smile.

No, I won't be afraid, oh... I won't be afraid
Just as long as you stand, stand by me

Santana chimed in with a harmony as both of them sang with New Directions chorusing in the background,

So darling, darling, stand... stand by me, oh... stand by me
Oh, stand, stand by me... stand by me

Santana took over, locking gazes with Blaine.

If the sky that we look upon
Should tumble and fall
Or the mountain should crumble to the sea

Artie joined in to sing,

I won't cry, I won't cry, no... I won't shed a tear
Just as long as you stand, stand by me

Altogether, they sang and swayed together,

And darling, darling, stand by me,
Darling, darling, stand by me

Blaine's gaze trained on Kurt, who was struggling to smile.

Whenever you're in trouble won't you stand... by me
Oh... stand by me

Then the a capella backing softened into cooing as Artie and Santana both sang softly,

Just as long as you stand
Stand by me

Irene held onto Blaine's jacket and whispered, "I'm so sorry, darling."

Blaine took his mother's hands gratefully, then eyed his father.

Finally, Robert got up and turned around. But he didn't say anything as he made his way out of the auditorium.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Songs:
John Farnham – "You're The Voice" (Finn)
Next To Normal – "A Light In The Dark" (Tina & Kurt)
Ben E. King – "Stand By Me" (Artie & Santana ft. New Directions)

A/N: Anybody excited for prom? Stay tuned for the next episode! (: