LeRoy held the kitchen phone to his ear as Hiram sat nearby listening to his side of the conversation, his arms crossed over his chest. "Hal, he's out there intimidating my kid," LeRoy insisted.

Hal's reasoned argument that there wasn't anything he could do about a man happening to be across the street from Blaine wasn't good enough for LeRoy. He wanted something done, damn it.

"I get that, LeRoy," Hal said. "Just give us some time, OK? If we arrest this guy – if," he repeated the word, "we need whatever we charge him to stick, remember? Or he's going to be able to claim police harassment the next time we come sniffing around. Let us do our job right."

LeRoy gritted his teeth, but finally agreed. "OK. OK. Thanks, Hal."

When he'd hung up the phone. Hiram looked to LeRoy for an update, who, having nothing to offer, shrugged and shook his head.

The day of Sectionals finally arrived, and though the Glee Club seemed to have fallen even more out of sync than ever, Blaine felt cautiously excited for the competition. He'd never participated in any sort of team competition before. He climbed on the bus and, to his surprise, Rachel chose to sit next to him rather than next to Finn. He supposed she must still be mad at him if she preferred Blaine's company to Finn's.

But then, he supposed, now that he thought about it, things had been, at least, more pleasant with Rachel since he'd told her about Jeremiah, if not entirely friendly.

"You think we'll get to see Kurt before the competition starts?" he asked her.

She looked at her watch. She didn't answer and just got up to walk down the bus stairs. He heard her tell Mr. Schue that although she didn't really care, if they didn't leave now, they would miss the competition.

He frowned and breathed a sigh. Same old Rachel, he thought, and decided to keep his earbuds in the rest of the bus ride.

Rachel was looking for her dads, whom she'd recruited to bring her the emergency sewing kit when one of the guys had lost a button, when Kurt spotted her. "Hey. Waiting for someone?" he asked with a smile. She met his smile with one of her own. "Just my dads. Minor wardrobe emergency. You know how it is.

"Hey, did you, uh, get your solo?" She asked.

"Sadly, no."

Rachel's eyes widened. "Oh, wow, if you didn't get a solo, then they must be really good. We are doomed," she lamented, but immediately realized maybe she shouldn't have said it quite that way. "Sorry," she added quickly, "that was selfish. What I meant to say was, 'Wow, that – That really sucks. I'm sure you were really good."

"I was. I mean, I think I was. Being in The Warblers has really made me question everything I thought about myself," Kurt admitted ruefully.

"Yeah," Rachel said with a sympathetic scoff. "God, what has become of us, Kurt."

"Do you want to…" Kurt indicated two nearby seats at the bar.

Rachel slipped into her own seat and tucked her hair behind her ear. "So, do you miss us?" she asked.

"Yeah, I do. Being a Warbler is great, but…," he sucked in a breath. "I don't think they appreciate my individuality as much as you guys did. And I can't help but think that I let you guys down."

Rachel shook her head once. "No – It's your life, Kurt, and you weren't safe at McKinley anymore, and we all get it."

Kurt smiled at that. "How come you were never this nice to me when I was your teammate?"

Rachel leaned in and answered, "Because you were my only real competition. Don't tell." She quirked a smile and Kurt laughed.

"True," he said, and Rachel cracked up before leaning in to hug him. She missed having her friend in Glee Club. Of everyone there (other than Finn, of course), Kurt was the only one who, despite their constant rivalry, consistently treated her like a person.

As Blaine took his seat with the rest of the New Directions, he found himself looking at the faces in the crowd for Hiram and LeRoy. He'd never really had someone to go to things like little league games or school plays. And even though he was sure they were here primarily for Rachel, it didn't stop him from hoping, just a little bit, that they might be there to see him, too.

"It's a tie! You are all going to the Regionals!

Blaine could hardly believe it. Through everything, they'd done it! They'd managed to win their sectionals (albeit in a tie), but since Kurt's team also won, it felt doubly awesome. After sharing a manly hug with Mike, and after having someone grab his butt during the onstage celebration (he was pretty sure that was Santana), he made his way over to Kurt.

With a bright grin, he threw his arms around his friend. "Congratulations! You guys were amazing," he said with a euphoric laugh before pulling away. "Walk out with us?" Blaine asked. The auditorium was already emptying.

Kurt looked over his shoulder at the other Warblers who were shaking hands and congratulating each other. "I – can't," he said, regretfully, "But – maybe tomorrow? Dad's here and he and Carole are taking Finn and I to Breadsticks, so I'll be staying in Lima for the weekend."

Behind him, an Asian guy called Kurt's name. Blaine looked over Kurt's shoulder, then forced a smile and nodded. "Yeah sure, tomorrow." When Kurt walked off, he gave Blaine one last wave and Blaine raised his hand in farewell.

"Hey Ambercrombie. Anda-le." At the sound of Santana's voice, Blaine turned and jogged to catch up to the rest of the New Directions.

Monday came faster than he'd expected. The weekend just flew by. With the excitement of sectionals over, but the high of winning still buzzing around the choir room, Blaine actually felt good about maybe sticking around for a while – at least until Kurt came back and could reclaim his rightful spot.

In fact, he was still riding the high, still humming Florence & the Machine's "Dog Days Are Over" as he walked across the school's parking lot. Rachel had hung back to talk to Finn, so he'd headed off alone after a quick wave goodbye. He didn't notice someone watching him. He didn't notice the green Jetta parked at the end of the lot.

"Blaine!"

Blaine turned towards the sound of his name to see an angry Jeremiah heading towards him with his hands balled into fists. "What the hell have you been telling people about me?"

Blaine backed up and put up his hands. "Jer, I don't…"

But Jeremiah didn't stop to listen. He kept talking. Shouting, actually. "There are police coming to my work, Blaine. My boss is pissed! He is this close to firing me." He was angrier than Blaine had ever seen him.

Blaine continued to try and put distance between himself and Jeremiah. "Look, let's just – take a second, OK? Let's just, c-calm down."

"Calm down? I'll show you…" Blaine's eyes widened and he turned to run, but Jeremiah was too close and too fast. He grabbed Blaine's backpack and threw him bodily against the side of a van. Though Jeremiah would have made a clumsy boxer, Blaine was thrown off balance, and when he hit the van, his head slammed back into the door, dazing him.

Jeremiah delivered two rapid punches to Blaine's gut. "Stop. Running," he demanded. Blaine doubled over having lost his air, and fell to the side. Jeremiah grabbed his arm to pull him back up and twisted it, slamming him back into the van.

Through gritted teeth, Jeremiah said, "You, are going to tell whoever you've been talking to, that you lied. Do you understand me?"

"What the hell?" The voice came from behind Jeremiah. Then, it was joined by another.

"Hey! Let him go!"

And another. "Blaine! Oh my god!"

Jeremiah turned, sucking in a panicked breath. It was enough – just enough.

With a war cry, Blaine slammed his heel into the top of Jeremiah's foot, twisted to try and free his arm, and delivered a backwards headbutt in rapid succession. He heard Jeremiah cry out twice, and his grip slacked, even as something near his wrist popped and burned.

Suddenly, the pressure holding him up was gone. He turned around, cradling his right arm and saw Finn and Sam holding Jeremiah by the arms as his attacker bled freely from a broken nose.

Rachel was on the phone and she was shrieking to someone about "police" and "ambulance" and "hurry."

Mike hurried over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Blaine, man, you OK?"

Blaine couldn't quite manage to tell him one way or the other. He still felt confused and a bit dizzy from what he was pretty sure was a concussion, but as the red and blue flashing lights from the police cars drew nearer, he couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, things would all be OK after all.

"Blaine, can you tell me what happened?"

The police officer's name was Hal. That much he knew. Blaine was holding an icepack against his head with his left hand while the EMT splinted his right arm. Something was broken, but whether it was his wrist or one of the bones in his forearm, they'd need an X-Ray to be sure. It was hard to breathe, but the EMT said his ribs were probably just bruised, not broken, which was a bit of a relief.

"He came at me," Blaine said, blinking rapidly. His head was really hurting now. "Pushed me against the van. Hit me."

Hal nodded. "Did he say anything to you?"

"He…," Blaine hesitated, but finally said, "he wanted to know who I told about him. Said police were asking about him."

"Do you know what he was talking about, Blaine?"

Blaine shook his head, then winced. "No," he said shakily. "No, I never – I didn't tell the police anything about – about anything."

Hal nodded. "OK, bud. That's all I need for now. Your dads are going to meet you at the hospital, OK?"

"K."

The EMT started helping Blaine up and into the ambulance. He'd just sat down and the EMT was about to close the back doors when a shrill, demanding voice broke through the din.

"Um, excuse me. Hello! Hold that door."

"Uh, who are you?" the EMT asked.

Rachel bristled. "I'm his sister, and I'm riding along." Something in her voice made it clear she was not taking "no" for an answer.