Mercedes sucked in a deep breath, and let it out shakily.

'Come on, girl, pull yourself together,' she told herself as she stood in line with Tina, Finn, Lauren, Santana, and Blaine. Well, at least she thought she told herself to pull it together, but then Blaine's arms were around her, and any composure she had dissolved completely.

"It's supposed to get easier," she said through choked sobs into his shoulder. "I've already said my goodbyes. It should be easier."

"I don't want it to get easier," Blaine said. "Because when it gets easier, that means I'm starting to forget him…them…and…I…that's…"

Mercedes sobbed harder, and he just kept rubbing circles on her back until she quieted.

"How are you holding up?" she asked after a little while.

"I'm still hoping it's a nightmare I'm going to wake up from any minute now," he said. "What about you?"

"You ready?"

She nodded.

She knew that this was for everyone else, and not for them, and that made her angry. Nobody knew Kurt. They didn't want to know him. Or Rachel, either. And she was expected to say something, sing something, to help them heal.

But what exactly were they healing from? It's not like any of those people had lost their best friends, the people they thought of as family.

So she was a bit bewildered as to why the auditorium was packed to capacity, each pair of eyes red from crying, and everyone, teachers and students, huddled together, hugging each other and leaning on one another for support.

They had no right.

"Students, faculty, and staff members of McKinley High," Figgins began. "It is with great sadness that we gather here today to honor the students whose lives were lost a week ago. The remaining students of New Directions would like to present a tribute to their memory."

"Before we start," Mercedes said. "I'd like to say a few words." It was more of a question than a statement, but nobody was going to tell her 'no' today.

"We're all here to say good bye to Artie Abrams, Brittany Pierce, Sam Evans, Mike Chang, Quinn Fabray, Rachel Berry…" she stole a glance over at Blaine. "And Kurt Hummel. It's a horrible tragedy what happened, but the real tragedy is how you treated most of those people when they were still with us. Most of you guys probably thought of Brittany as a dumb slut. Artie to most of you was Wheelchair Kid. Mike was the Asian. Sam was the bleach-blonde jock for most of you, and Kurt was the gay kid, and Rachel was pretty much annoying all the time."

"Artie and Mike were hilarious. They should've been enemies because Mike dated Artie's ex, but they weren't. They were just really cool guys. Sam was the first guy who gave me the time of day. Brittany had a good heart and she could actually be pretty smart sometimes. Not to speak ill of the dead, but Quinn could be a royal bitch." The crowd was half-giggling, half gasping at the use of foul language. "It's true! She was! But beneath that, she was a girl who followed her heart. Rachel could be annoying, but she could also be sweet and supportive. And Kurt…Kurt was my best friend. He'd literally give the shirt off his back to a friend in need and he was always…" She trailed off and sucked in another breath, but the tears wouldn't stop flowing down her cheeks.

Still, she had to continue. "I guess I'm just confused why you're all so upset," Mercedes said. "Because I see you all crying and carrying on, and I would get that, except you tossed Artie into port-a-potties and rolled it over and laughed. You called Quinn a slut when she got pregnant and you laughed at her when you found out who she used to be. You never gave up an opportunity to slushy Rachel, you'd sleep with Brittany if given the chance. Kurt, you shoved him against lockers and tossed him into the dumpster like he was garbage. Not to mention that stupid Prom Queen prank last year."

"And I'm not trying to tell you what to feel, but you never missed a chance to diss Glee or slushy us, but we are a family. I don't think our lives will ever be the same, but I bet after the weekend, it'll go back to normal for you all and you'll be back to your old selves. So I guess I just wanted to say…this is for them, for the ones we had to bury last week, and I hope none of you experience the kind of loss, but I hope you can learn from this. I hope this teaches you that people are actually people…and not a joke or a stereotype, and I know that those of us who knew them best…we'll never forget them."

With that, she nodded at Blaine, who nodded at the jazz band and the AV Club, who'd agreed to provide back-up vocals.

"I'm not a member of New Directions. I'm not even a part of the student body here at McKinley, but this was Kurt's family, and it wasn't long before they became my family too. They were gracious enough to allow me to join them in this tribute."

He began to strum softly on his guitar and started to sing.

"I don't want to be the one to say goodbye

But I will,

I will,

I will…"

Tina sang the next line:

"I don't want to sit on the pavement

while you fly.

But I will,

I will,

oh yes I will"

"Maybe in the future,

you're gonna come back,

you're gonna come back around

Maybe in the future, you're gonna come back,

you're gonna come back

"The only way to really know

Is to really let it go

"Maybe you're gonna come back,

You're gonna come back,

You're gonna come back to me"

"I don't want to be the first to let it go

But I know,

I know,

I know

"If you have the last hands that I want to hold

Then I know I've got to let them go."

"Maybe in the future,

you're gonna come back,

you're gonna come back around."

Blaine and Finn harmonized on the next verse:

"I still feel you on the right side of the bed

And I still feel you in the blankets pulled over my head

But I'm gonna wash away,

oh I'm gonna wash away

everything 'til you come home to me"

"Maybe in the future,

you're gonna come back,

you're gonna come back."

"The only way to really know

is to really let it go."

From the stands, Kurt sat, watching, tears flowing freely down his face.

"I hate this," Kurt said. "I hate that they're hurting and I can't let them know I'm okay. This so stupid! I can't even talk to them! This is SO not helping."

"They're saying good-bye," Rube said. "Here's your chance to say good-bye, too."

"I promised Blaine I'd never say good-bye to him," Kurt choked out through sobs. "We were gonna go to New York next year…move in together…"

"That's one promise you'll just have to break, kiddo."

"It doesn't have to be good-bye," Mason said. "How about farewell? Sayonara? Au revoir? Arrivaderci? Auf weidersehen?"

"Shut the fuck up, Mason," Kurt said.

"You heard the kid," Rube said. "Shut the fuck up."

It took some time, but it got easier.

Six months had past since he'd joined the ranks of the undead, and Kurt was slowly learning the ropes of his new life as Henry (a name he'd chosen as a reference from both My Fair Lady and Next to Normal). He still started every time he caught sight of his new reflection. Someone with a sick sense of humor decided his new body would have ears the size of Ross Perot's, dirty-blonde hair and skin that had been scared by years of severe acne.

George reluctantly got him a job at Happy Time. Crystal freaked him out and he was learning to tolerate Delores, even like her sometimes. The soul-crushing monotony was hard to get used to, but he learned to deal with having to work with a bunch of slackers who, like George, didn't give a shit. It was a paycheck. At least reaping souls was oddly gratifying, even if he didn't get paid for it.

But there wasn't a day that went by that he didn't miss the people he left behind.

He'd sent an email to Blaine, telling him how much he loved him and that he was okay. Blaine 's reply had been: "This is a joke, right?" He thought about sending an actual letter to his dad, knowing that he'd never read the emails, but then he realized it would do more harm than good, so he didn't.

Sometimes, he was really grateful to Mason for stealing the i-pod. There were days when his old music collection was the only thing that kept him sane. On the days when it wasn't enough, he called his dad's shop just to hear his voice, but it never helped and it was hard to keep from spiraling into a deep depression.

"Just go back to Ohio," George finally said when she caught Kurt stalking Blaine's Facebook profile for the hundredth time that week at his work-station.

"Excuse me?" Kurt bawked. "I can't just…show up! I'm not even me anymore. How'm I supposed to say goodbye to people who don't even recognize me? And I can't leave Seattle! I have two jobs here!"

"Like you haven't racked up vacation time already. You inever/i take a day off. You're making me look bad."

"I can't go back," Kurt replied. "Who'll take care of my reaps? Who'll take care of things here?"

"I can cover for you. Look, Kurt, you are annoying. You're whiney, you're manipulative, you're anal-retentive, and you can be a huge bitch when you want to be. But I know what this is like, and I wasn't even that close to my family when I died. Take a week. Take my car and drive to Ohio."

"Really?" Kurt sniffled.

"Just don't get all weepy on me again. I can't fucking stand it when you cry."

So that's what he did.

'God,' Kurt thought as he opened the door. 'The shop even smells the same.'

It was never his favorite place in his old life, but the familiarity was comforting. He didn't like the smell of rubber and flannel, but now it was like he could pretend that he was Kurt again coming in to help out around the shop.

He was still getting used to Seattle weather, getting around the place and getting accustomed to way the new house smelled and felt and sounded.

It was nice. Being in a place that was familiar.

His dad emerged from the back of the shop.

"Can I help you?" his dad asked.

Kurt couldn't speak.

"What's your name kid?"

"Ku—Henry. I'm Henry Bloom."

"Anything I can do for you, Henry?"

"I um, I'm from Seattle," Kurt began.

"Kid, the only reason someone from Seattle would wanna speak to me is because of what happened to my son there. I doubt you're from the Associated Press. You don't even look like you're out of high school. You thought you'd just barge in here and get an interview from me and sell the interview to the major networks, didn't' you? I'm gonna make this real easy on you: No. Fucking. Comment. Now, get the hell out of my shop."

"I'm not from the press!" Kurt rushed out. "I'm not from any newspaper! I swear I don't even have a twitter account!"

"Why are you here?"

"The bus accident…there must've been some kind of mistake because, for some reason, I somehow got some things that I think belong to your son."

"My son's dead, kid. I don't think this stuff'll do him any good anymore."

Kurt sucked down the sob that threatened to escape his throat.

"Just… I thought maybe someone might like to have it," he said and handed him the I-Pod with Kurt's name engraved on it.

"You came all the way from Seattle just to deliver my son's i-Pod?"

Kurt nodded.

"Not that I'm not grateful 'cause I am, but you know, I heard about these very handy places where they ship all kinds of packages all over the world. They're called post offices. Might wanna use one next time you find somethin' that belongs to somebody you don't know who lives clear across the country."

"Well, you know, I was in the neighborhood," Kurt-as-Henry said with a shrug, unable to keep his voice as calm as he would've liked.

Burt studied him for a minute.

"Your parents back home know you're out here?" Burt asked.

Kurt should've shaken his head. Or given a non-committal shrug. Or just left at that question, but he didn't.

He couldn't shake down the sob that came out of his mouth. It was impossible. Of course his father didn't know he was here. He'd played this conversation over a billion times in his head; telling his dad it was really him and he was really okay, but as much as he wanted to, he couldn't.

"Hey, it's okay, kid," Burt said, laying his big, rough hand on Kurt's shoulder. "It's gonna be okay. Let me guess. You're worried about what your old man's gonna say when he finds out where you've been."

Kurt nodded and a wry grin spread across his features and sniffled as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. "You don't know the half of it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm really not supposed to be here."

"Your parents will be pretty pissed when you get back, that's for sure."

"Something like that," Kurt said.

"I hope this little stunt of yours is worth it, because if your old man's anything like me, you'll probably be grounded until you're thirty when you get back. But you know, if you explain to him why you did what you did, he might go a little easier on you and ground you for a couple of weeks. You could've sold the i-pod. You could've kept it. But if I were your old man, I'd be pretty damn proud you went to all this trouble to do the decent thing."

"Coming from you, that means a lot."

"Why did you bring it back?"

"I don't know," Kurt said with a shrug. He sucked at lying. His dad always knew when he wasn't being entirely truthful, and he was sure that he knew there was something more to this story.

But…now? His dad's face had more lines than it used to and he had bags under his eyes, and there was loss there and pain and Kurt just wanted to make it go away.

But at the same time, he knew it wasn't the right thing to do. He knew it'd only make things harder. Harder for him, harder for his dad, harder for Finn and Carole and Blaine, and...

He needed to do what he came all this way to do.

"It's just…when someone's got the iPod filled to capacity with such quality music, I guess I kind of felt like I got to know Kurt in a way," he grumbled. He felt stupid saying it and he couldn't look his father in the eye as he said the words, but luckily, his dad seemed to take that as embarrassment. "So I Googled your son and I found out what had happened to him, and…so I thought it was time I said goodbye."

The reaping had definitely taught him how to lie.

"Thanks for going to all this trouble, kid," Burt said, clapping him on the shoulder.

The door jingled and someone came into the shop.

"Now if you'll excuse me, Henry," he said, turning to the customer. "Yes sir, Mr. Peterson, we've got her ready to go for you!" He said as he went into the back for the keys.

"Love you, dad," Kurt whispered.

With that he left, closing the door to his dad's tire shop for the last time.

Almost done! One more chapter left! Read? Please review! Feedback is love. The song is 'Maybe' by Ingrid Michaelson.