Kurt was sitting at his desk, fingers flying over the keys on his trusty laptop. He heaved out a tired sigh and took a large gulp from the mug of coffee his husband had made him earlier. The liquid felt good as it slid down his tender throat, and it was with great reluctance that he put the mug down and returned to his work. This latest story was taking up so much time, but Kurt knew it would be worth it in the end. It was a real coup for the paper, and for him as a journalist. Although journalism was a career path he never would have considered in high school, he found himself growing to enjoy the profession. It was difficult, and it challenged him, but challenge was what Kurt thrived on. It had taken a while to find somewhere that was the right fit for the two of them, but Concord had proven to be perfect. Kurt was content at the Monitor, and best of all New Hampshire was one of the few states which both recognised and performed same-sex marriages.
"Hey there Mr Anderson," said a voice behind him, making Kurt jump and almost spill his coffee all over his crisp periwinkle dress shirt. He turned with a reproachful scowl, but it slid off his face at the sight of his husband. Blaine was grinning in that maddeningly endearing way of his, and holding up a plate of mouth-watering muffins.
"Low fat?" Kurt asked suspiciously as he gingerly picked up one of the cakes and poked at the blueberries scattered through the dough. Blaine rolled his eyes.
"Of course, what do you take me for?" he teased, laughing as Kurt dived on the muffin with ill grace and devoured it before his eyes. He stroked Kurt's cheek gently as his husband closed his eyes and yawned. "Can't you just call it a night? You're working yourself into the ground."
"I know, but it'll be worth it when-"
Kurt was interrupted mid-flow by the sound of the phone ringing in the hallway. He sighed. Blaine shoved the plate of muffins into his hands and put a firm hand on his shoulder, holding him in place.
"I'll get it. You just take a break before you fall over. I don't want to have to carry you into bed again."
"Are you quite sure about that, Mr Hummel?" Kurt asked, cocking an eyebrow suggestively. Blaine grinned.
"On second thoughts... collapse away. I'll be right back."
Kurt smiled and sat back in his chair, running a hand through his perfectly-coiffed hair. Life was finally getting on track for him. He had harboured a growing adoration for Blaine for years, and when he had finally plucked up the courage to confess he found that his former mentor felt the same way. They had married right here in Concord last year, with Mercedes, Rachel and Finn serving as witnesses to the intimate ceremony, much to the latter's discomfort; Finn still couldn't get used to an open gay relationship, much to Kurt's exasperation and Blaine's amusement.
"Hello? Anderson-Hummel residence, Blaine- oh hey Finn," said Blaine, out in the hallway, and Kurt had to swallow a snigger; he knew that tone. "No, no you're not interrupting. Kurt and I were just having some very hot sex and- hold on, Finn slow down. I can't understand you..."
The sudden change in Blaine's tone made Kurt sit bolt upright, the muffins left forgotten on the desk alongside his research. He padded out into the corridor and took the phone from Blaine without a word. Blaine wrapped comforting arms around him as he held the phone to his ear.
"Finn, what's wrong?" he asked worriedly. "Is it Dad? Did you hear something- wait, what?"
Finn explained the situation in a stilted, broken voice. Kurt could hear sobbing in the background which he attributed to Rachel, and another voice which he thought was vaguely familiar. When Finn finally finished talking, it was with a question.
"Of course I'll contact them," Kurt replied quickly, worried about how quiet and serious his normally-goofy stepbrother sounded. "See you soon Finn."
He hung up and turned to face Blaine, dumbfounded. The smaller man held him close, rubbing soothing circles into his back.
"Mr Schuester committed suicide," he whispered after a long pause. "My old teacher, from McKinley, you remember? Finn, he wants me to- to contact the others and..."
"Do you want me to do it for you?"
Kurt shook his head and Blaine nodded.
"Alright then, I'll start organising time off."
"What do you mean?"
"I'll call the hospital, see if the Chief will give me a couple of days. I'm going back to Lima with you."
Kurt smiled brokenly and dialled a number before he could stop himself, swallowing against the hard lump in his throat.
"You've reached Mercedes Jones. Leave a message if you're hot and I'll get back to you..."
/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/
Sam Evans was in the bath when Kurt's call came through. He had been complaining for days about the heavy tackle he had taken in the last game, and his fiancée Madelyn had finally had enough and drawn him a piping hot bath. Sam grinned as he slid further down into the soapy bubbles; this was the life. High-profile quarterback, a string of lucrative advertising contracts and a beautiful young woman on his arm. Maddy was really great. The pair had met two years ago and had been inseparable ever since. Maddy was an architect, but since she and Sam had become something of a power couple in the sporting world, she had begun dabbling in modelling as well.
"Baby?"
Sam glanced up to see Madelyn padding softly into the large, marble-tiled bathroom. She looked flawless as always. Her long blonde hair hung freely around her delicately-featured face and a girly bow was nestled within the slight curls. She was dressed in a summery baby-doll dress in pink, with a paler-coloured cardigan draped over her slim shoulders. Her face split into a warm smile as she crossed the room and planted a chaste kiss on Sam's eager lips.
"Phone for you," she said softly. "Says his name's Kurt..."
"Kurt? Kurt Hummel?" Sam asked incredulously. Living in New Orleans, and with such a rigorous training schedule, he didn't see his former classmates very often. He hadn't even been able to make Brittany and Artie's wedding, much to his own disappointment, and he was pretty sure it was almost six years since he had even laid eyes on Kurt Hummel. He took the phone from Maddy, mystified, and answered with a tentative "Hello?"
The first thing he realised was that Kurt seemed to be trying to contain tears, and that instantly got him worried. He sat bolt upright, splashing quite a lot of water over the edge of the tub, much to Madelyn's chagrin, and tried to calm the other man down enough for him to be coherent.
"Kurt, what's wrong? It-it's not Finn, is it?" he asked with a sudden shock of fear.
"What- oh, no! No, Finn's f-fine, it's..."
And then he was off in a rambling, disjointed explanation. Sam's mind spun and several times he had to ask Kurt to repeat details. Eventually, however, he managed to comprehend what was happening, and that comprehension crashed over him like a tsunami.
"And Finn and Rachel, well Rachel mainly, thought it would be nice if we... if New Directions, I mean, would attend the- the funeral. To show respect, and I know you're busy but-"
"I'll be there, Kurt," Sam said firmly. "See you soon."
He hung up and glanced at Madelyn, perched on the edge of the tub wearing an anxious expression. Sam reached out and squeezed her hand gently.
"Baby, I have to go home. To Lima. There's been a- my old choir teacher, he passed."
"Oh Sammy, that's awful," Madelyn gasped. "I should come with you, shouldn't I?"
"Maddy, you've got a big project lined up, I could never ask that of you. Don't sweat it, I'll only be gone for a couple of days."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive. Thanks Maddy."
She kissed him softly again before getting lightly to her feet and making her way to the door.
"Dinner'll be ready in an hour," she called as she disappeared around the door, leaving Sam alone with his thoughts.
He was going back. Back to Lima. For Mr Schue's funeral. It just didn't seem real. With a sigh, he pushed himself down so that he was completely submerged in bathwater. He wasn't sure he was up to going back; he wanted to, of course, he had really admired Mr Schue. But there were complications. Well, more specifically, one complication.
Quinn.
The last time he had seen her, they had fought furiously. Quinn had become someone that Sam didn't recognise, and he hated it. They had stayed together after high school, but the sweet, stubborn Quinn he had fallen for had been replaced by someone colder, more career-obsessed. Sam hadn't liked it one little bit, and he had told her as much. They screamed at each other for almost two hours, and then Quinn had taken her things and left their New Orleans apartment. He hadn't heard from her since; the last he'd heard, she was in Phoenix.
He couldn't help feeling that seeing her again would be more than a little awkward.
/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/
"Scotch on the rocks please."
"Isn't it a bit early in the day for that?" Mercedes Jones asked from behind the bar without looking at her client. The lunchtime rush had just started and she was busy brewing coffee and ferrying sandwiches and paninis to customers on their lunchbreak.
"Well, I'm celebrating," the man said sourly. Mercedes rolled her eyes. She turned with a determinedly forced grin to face him. He was sitting with his head leaned against the wood of the bar counter and to be honest Mercedes was sure he'd already had one too many. She came to stand before him and gave him a gentle nudge.
"You don't sound too happy for someone who's supposed to be celebrating," she pressed gently, careful to keep her tone kind and not nosy. The guy raised his head blearily.
"My divorce just came through," he informed her, and Mercedes' mouth fell open. Not because he was divorced- this was California, and Mercedes was plenty used to guys drowning their sorrows in the bar when their marriages failed- but because she recognised the man sitting before her.
It was Jesse St James.
"You don't recognise me, do you?" she asked him. Jesse's brow puckered as he stared blearily at her. "I was in New Directions."
It seemed to take Jesse a moment to process this, but then his expression cleared and he nodded, swaying slightly sideways as he did so.
"Mercedes, right? I remember."
Mercedes looked at him carefully and what she saw made her sad. Jesse was a shell of the confident, cocky showman she had once known. His hair was a mess and his face had a hollow, wounded look to it. She had heard the reports, of course, everyone had. He'd had a falling out with the director of his new movie, and since then he'd been finding it increasingly hard to land roles. There had been accusations of cheating, both about him and about his blonde, blue-eyed, big-breasted Playboy bunny wife and it had all ended in a nasty separation. The wife had bled him dry.
"I'm sorry to hear about your divorce," Mercedes said softly, and she meant it. Jesse had been a grade-one asshole in high school, but Mercedes was a sucker for puppy-dog eyes (it was how Kurt had always gotten around her, and Finn Hudson too at times) and the poor guy looked like he had been kicked in the stomach.
"You and me both," he said miserably. "She took everything. And she left this big hole where she used to be and now..."
"I get it," Mercedes told him. "It feels like a huge chunk of you is missing, right?"
"Exactly," Jesse nodded enthusiastically. Then he looked bemused. "How'd you know that?"
"My boyfriend was killed in Iraq six months ago," said Mercedes, feeling the familiar stab of pain as her thoughts flickered to Anthony. Jesse, even in his intoxicated state, had the decency to look sympathetic.
"I'm sorry," he said, and he meant it. Mercedes shot him a taught smile.
"Thanks," she said quietly. For a moment she felt that awful fear that she might burst into tears again, but then Jesse tipped dangerously sideways and she had to round the bar in rapid time to keep him upright. "OK buddy, no more scotch for you."
"But I wanna forget," Jesse whined. Mercedes ruffled his hair like she used to do when Kurt was upset.
"Believe me honey, I've been there," she told Jesse. "But you'll be thankin' me in the morning. Want me to call you a cab?"
Jesse pulled a face. "That'd be great... if, y'know, Angel hadn't thrown me out of the house."
"Don't you have anyone to stay with? A friend, or a relative maybe?"
"Nope. I've screwed them all over so many times, none of them want anything to do with me," Jesse said miserably.
"OK, first, give me any more of that self-pity thing, and I will cut you. Second, I'm off in a couple of hours, and then you can have my sofa. Until then, how about you stick to water?"
"You're nice," Jesse mused dizzily. "Rachel never said you were nice..."
"Yeah, well Rachel Berry thought she was a normal, well-adjusted human being, didn't she?" Mercedes muttered, pouring Jesse a large pint glass of water. "Come on, you've nearly fallen off this stool twice already. You'll do better in a booth."
She took Jesse by the arm and steered him to a booth in the corner, out of the way of the other patrons. He leaned back against the leather-effect seat gratefully and gave her a small smile, so different from the slightly demented showface Mercedes remembered.
"Don't gulp it," she warned him, handing over the glass of water. "I don't want to get stuck mopping up your vomit on my break."
Jesse nodded gravely. "Thanks Mercedes," he said hoarsely, sipping the water as instructed.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever Pretty Boy," Mercedes muttered. "I'm on my break in a while, I'll bring you some coffee."
She hurried to get back behind the bar, and was more than relieved when fifteen minutes later the other barmaid, Alex, returned to give her a couple of minutes of a break. She hurried into the break room to retrieve her phone and then brought a pot of coffee down to the booth where Jesse was dozing fitfully.
"Drink up Pretty Boy," she told him distractedly as she flipped her cell open. To her surprise, she had a voice message from Kurt. The pair had remained close even after Kurt left McKinley to go to Dalton, but Kurt knew she worked most days of the week in the bar, and usually saved his phonecalls for the evening or weekend afternoons. The last time he'd called her at work, it was to tell her that he and Blaine were getting married. Curious, she started to listen to her boy's message.
"Mercedes, please pick up. I've got bad news..."
The message lasted a couple of minutes in total, and when it was finished Mercedes dropped the phone as though it had burned her. She could feel her breathing quicken and closed her eyes in an attempt to regain control.
"What's wrong?" Jesse asked over the rim of his coffee cup. He looked more together now, and his brow was knitted with genuine concern. Mercedes felt a sudden burst of rashness; she didn't want to face the long flight back to Ohio alone. She levelled her gaze on Jesse's, who looked rather wary.
"How would you feel about a bit of a trip?"
/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/
Quinn Fabray stood impatiently at the luggage carousel in Port Columbus International Airport. There had been some sort of mix-up with the baggage and she had been left standing here for an hour waiting for her suitcase. She was drained; she had been flying for over three hours, and she had a full day in court behind her before that. She could feel the tension knotting at the back of her neck and her feet were aching. With a furtive glance around, she bent down and quickly unhooked her black patent stilettos, leaving her standing in sheer black stockings and a slate-grey pencil dress.
"Finally," she muttered darkly as she spotted her neat Louis Vuitton case making its way up the carousel. She pushed her way to the front of the crowd and lifted it down before making her way towards the exit.
It had been a long time since she had been in Ohio; she hadn't been home since before she and Sam broke up. Coming from the subtropical, arid heat of Phoenix, it was almost a relief to see the overcast sky and drizzly rain outside. A smile flitted across her face. She had always loved the smell of rain.
Her phone started to vibrate in her jacket pocket and she picked up immediately, making her way towards the exit lost in talk of witnesses and key evidence with the firm's in-house private investigator and her closest companion, Alfie Sykes. Alfie was one of the few people who had welcomed her when she arrived in Phoenix, and he had even offered her his spare room until she got settled. Quinn had accepted gratefully, but moved out swiftly when Alfie's boyfriend moved in.
After a hurried conversation, she hung up, still lost in thoughts of the case. So much so that it took her several moments to realise that somebody was calling her name.
"Quinn? Quinn Fabray, is that you?"
She turned and found herself face-to-face with a very changed Tina Cohen-Chang. The other woman had spent her high school years in gothic garb with dodgy blue hair extensions, but the figure before Quinn was that of a mature young woman. Tina's hair had been cropped short into a demure bob and she wore high-waisted pinstriped pants with a pussy-bow blouse. Her smile, however, was the same innocent beam as it had been in high school as she threw her arms around Quinn in a surprise hug.
"Long time no see," she said. "You look great."
"You too," Quinn smiled. "Where are you based now?"
"I'm in Oregon actually, in Portland."
"And how do you like being a paramedic?" Quinn asked. If possible, Tina's grin grew even wider. Quinn laughed. "That good, huh?"
"It has its low points, obviously, but that feeling you get when you save a life... you can't beat it, you know? I saw you on TV a while ago, how's the big bad world of law?"
"Stressful," Quinn admitted, and the two women shared a laugh as they emerged into the rainy night. "I hired a car for the few days I'm in Ohio, you want a ride?"
"That'd be great," agreed Tina. "Thanks Quinn."
The two women made their way towards the car rental station, shivering slightly as the rain drenched them to the skin. They chatted about life and reminisced about their time at McKinley High, neither of them fully able to come to terms with the fact that their curly-haired choir teacher was gone. He had been such a large part of their lives in high school, and it was impossible to think that tomorrow they would be attending his funeral.
Neither woman mentioned the elephant in the car; both would be coming face-to-face with their exes tomorrow too.
/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/
A/N: Thanks as usual to everyone who's reading. Special thank to Ms Yu, Macie, Always-be-dreaming-of-you, Readingtoomuch, Clo (incredibly detailed review, and your English was perfect by the way!) and Bonesluver for reviewing.
Next chapter will be the funeral, and everyone will finally come back together!