A quick note: I know I promised you four chapters, and that was the original plan. But then traceit pointed out that I could accomplish the exact same thing with just these two. If you WANT me to post the extra material, let me know and I will. But really I think traceit's solution is far more elegant :)

For Wemmazing, mattyfresh, fadedglass, Greys, Valentinas, PlainJane1 and the very impatient someWhereinRoma ;) Thank you so much for all your feedback and encouragement; I could never have gotten so far without you! Also for jilly74, who was kind enough to give me a shout-out in her excellent story Falling Away. All you Wemma fans will love it!

Last but never least, for traceit. Honestly, honestly, honestly, if you enjoyed this story at all, it's only because of her. I would have messed everything up so badly without her guidance.

27

I could tell you about the show in minute detail, because no matter what else is going on in my life I always remember every second of every time I've ever been on stage. The way I moved, the way I sang, which chords I dropped, which notes I missed… All of these things are stored in my head, and I torture myself with all my mistakes on the rare occasions that I have nothing else to torture myself with. So I could tell you that I followed Odessa's advice, fixed Will's face before me in my mind's eye and opened a new vein, each more painful than the last, for every song I sang. And I could tell you that Odessa was right, that I brought 40,000 people to their knees with my new material, that the crowd screamed more and more ecstatically with every debut, that they loved the pain and loved me and couldn't stop chanting my name. Hell, I could even tell you that the glee kids destroyed their two numbers, that they upstaged me completely, that they impressed everyone, that the various label reps who'd come to monitor the show were giddy with the thought of snatching all of them up before the competition even got a chance. But that's boring, and anyway the most important thing about this show is the thing that didn't happen: Will did not show up at the very last minute, charge on stage, gather me into his arms and declare his undying love for me, which, despite having no reason to expect, I'd apparently secretly hoped would come to pass, at least based upon how devastated I felt when the evening was over and everything was packed up and I was alone on the nearly empty stage. He didn't come.

"Norah, we're all heading back to the hotel for the afterparty, are you coming?" Odessa asked, crouching down beside me where I sat dangling my legs off the edge. It wasn't really a question, though, because as far as she was concerned the answer wasn't in doubt.

I looked up at her, shivering in my postage-stamp size costume, and shocked her by shaking my head. "I'm going to stay here for a while, Dess."

"Absolutely not," she denied, shaking her head right back. "You're going to come back to the trailer, put on some real clothes and congratulate those kids on kicking some serious ass. And then you're going to come back to the hotel and get wasted like any self-respecting rock star. Maybe later you can throw a TV out a window or something."

Smiling wryly, I shook my head. "Sounds like a party, but I think I'll pass. I just need to clear my head, you know? Have Anton stay behind, he can drive me back in a bit."

Dess glared down at me. "I don't like this idea at all. Just come back with us. You've really been treating the glee kids horribly, you know."

I hung my head guiltily, because there was so much justice in the claim. Will would be ashamed of me, undoubtedly, but then… I mean, he already was, it's not like his opinion of me could get any lower. "I know. But I'll make it up to them. I will, I swear. They don't need me anyway, I saw Carter and Louise sucking up to them, by this time tomorrow they'll all have million dollar contracts if they want them."

"That's not the point," she told me. "The point is that it's not good for you to be sitting here by yourself in the cold, catching pneumonia and feeling depressed."

"Seriously. I just need some alone time, okay?" I tried to make this sound like a demand but I couldn't; I just sounded pathetic, really. "The party is going to be crowded and noisy and I need to decompress before I can deal with all that."

Laughing, I nudged her with my shoulder, almost knocking her off-balance. "Come on, Dess, I'm a musician. If I'm not sitting by myself feeling depressed I'm not doing my job."

"You're impossible," she muttered, standing. There was a rustle of fabric and then I felt the warmth of her teal wool peacoat descending upon me as she draped it over my shoulders. "Fine. But I'm going to have Anton come get you in 30 minutes, and I'm going to authorize the use of lethal force to bring you back to the hotel. Dead or alive, I'll say."

"If I show up dead it defeats your purpose," I reminded her.

She shrugged. "Depends on the purpose, now, doesn't it? Please, Norah. Don't… I mean, that show… It should not be possible for you to feel this sad after a show like that."

"I know," I answered. "And yet…"

"Impossible," she repeated. "Fine. Sulk if you must. I'll see you back at the hotel. And remember, 30 minutes, or Anton comes up here with a Taser."

I smirked up at her. "Oh, you downgraded the lethality. I appreciate that."

"Shut up." She stalked off.

"Bye, Dess…" I called after her, and I could almost hear her giving me the finger as she walked away.

And then I was alone, just myself and my tumultuous thoughts, which is what I'd believed I wanted but now that I had it I wasn't so sure. I stared into the darkness of the cold Ohio night, the empty field full of the debris of the show, and remembered a time years and years ago when this was all I wanted, all I dreamed of, when I would have killed for the reality I didn't know my future would become. 40,000 people singing with one voice, singing words I had written, screaming and cheering and adoring me… I would have sold my soul for that. But they say be careful what you wish for; you just might get it for a reason. Because this was all I'd wanted… And now it was all I had, all I'd ever have. Honestly, it was probably all I deserved, coldness, emptiness, debris in a frozen field. It would take a much less creatively inclined person than I am to see that field as a terrifying metaphor for the rest of my life. All I could do was think He didn't come, he didn't come, he didn't come. Which meant that was it. I was really leaving in the morning… I would really never see him again. He would really forget me, really be glad of it. And I'd spend the rest of my life singing about him and thinking about him and god this was going to kill me.

I rubbed my hand across my face, turned to the side, grabbed my acoustic guitar. There was a song I'd meant to play, a song I'd wanted to play, but in the end I just hadn't felt capable of it, so I'd cut it. It was the song I'd begun writing the last time I was in Lima, the useful little piece of music I'd once accidentally played for Will, and more than any other song from the upcoming album it made me think of him. Still not sure why. Maybe because it wasn't really sad on its own, maybe because I didn't want to remember him in a way that made me unhappy, if such a thing was possible. Strumming idly, I picked out the melody, couldn't help singing, glad there was no one to hear because my voice was shot and I couldn't make it sound as upbeat as it was meant to.

"From the moment I saw you/ I knew that you would be/ A beautiful distraction/ Just the distraction that I needed/ Just the distraction that I need," I sang, smiling nostalgically as I remembered the first time I saw him, how naïve I'd been to think that was all he'd be. "And I said/ 'Will you come away with me tonight?'/ And you said 'Fine,'/ And I looked in your eyes/ And it was right/ So we went…"

My fingers fumbled a bit, missed the chord change ("Ladies and gentlemen, the great Norah Castle!"); it was cold, and they were stiff and frozen, but I made it into the chorus somehow. "That's when everything changed/ That's when you became/ More than I could ever say/ More than everything/ More than anything to me."

And oh god the lyrics were so sappy, but what made it worse was the fact that they were true. I shook my head, laughed at myself, missed another change, my fingers too slow to pull it off, and pretty much faked my way into the bridge. "I know there's a million reasons to run/ Between the two of us/ And only one to stay/ But I don't/ I don't/ I don't/ And I know I won't/ Have the willpower/ To walk away…" And then I laughed out loud, because in the end that hadn't really been a problem, had it? My willpower had nothing to do with it one way or the other. And anyway, it was too fucking cold to play the guitar, so I set it aside.

There were footsteps behind me, and I checked my watch with a frown. "Anton, it's barely been 10 minutes, Dess promised me 30."

He didn't respond and I turned slightly, freezing when I saw a pair of shoes and jeans that were definitely not part of Anton's uniform. Suddenly, every nerve ending in my body was alert, my muscles rigid as though preparing to flee (which maybe I was), and I could feel a new tension in the air, a kind of electromagnetic field crackling between the two of us like static or lightning, pulling us together. I wanted to shout that it wasn't fair, that it was too cruel for him to show up just when I'd finally accepted he wouldn't, just when I'd let any and all hope go. Now I didn't even know what I was feeling; I think I wanted to be hopeful again but wouldn't let myself. And oh god did he hear my song?

"What's the reason to stay?" Will asked, confirming my worst fear, moving my guitar to sit next to me. Just the sound of his voice, that sweet, clear voice I thought I'd never hear again, filled me with a wave of grief, and his proximity sharpened it. He was close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off of him, but not close enough that we were touching, and I wasn't sure if I should move closer or move away so I did neither.

Instead I looked down at my hands, folded in my lap, to avoid staring at him, though really I'd never wanted to do anything more. My heart was pounding and my mind was racing, and I had been so sure he wasn't coming that I'd let go of whatever mental preparations I'd made for anything else. I could hardly breathe through my panic. "What are you doing here, Will?" I ignored his question completely, because the answer was so obvious.

He turned his head, and I could feel him look at me. "I couldn't stay away."

I wanted to think that he meant he couldn't stay away from me, but again, I wouldn't let myself. Besides, it was obvious enough why he'd come; I'd known he'd never leave his kids to face a show that huge alone. "Well the kids have left already, they're on their way to the afterparty," I informed him, voice clipped with the effort of not pleading with him to take me back. "It's at the Courtyard Inn and Suites, the finest Lima has to offer. You're welcome to go."

"Are you going?" He was closer now somehow, the side of his arm just barely brushing mine, and I felt that slight touch throughout my entire body. Why was he doing this? Hadn't Wednesday night been hard enough?

"Don't worry," I told him, moving away slightly. "I'm not if you are."

"Is Lima not big enough for the both of us, then?" And he was close again.

"Ohio's not big enough for the both of us, Will. Not as far as I'm concerned." I muttered, edging away once more. "But it will be fine, I'm leaving in the morning."

"Wait-" he sighed, reaching out to cover my hand with his, and I stood abruptly, turned my back to him as though if I couldn't see him he didn't exist.

"What do you want, Will?" I choked out, trying to suck oxygen into my paralyzed lungs. Honestly, I was just so afraid, because I didn't think I could survive hearing him say he wanted to forget me again. Knew I couldn't. "Because this isn't a great time right now. If you have anything else to say, you're welcome to get in touch with my representatives."

I heard him stand, and then he was behind me, one hand stroking my hair, the other resting lightly on my shoulder. His touch felt healing, and I hated him for that, hated that I had to lean into him. "I want you to answer my question," he responded when I didn't break free of his grasp. "What's the reason to stay?"

"You know the answer," I whispered, humiliated. "You told me. There isn't one, not for you. Do we have to do this again? Once was bad enough."

"Honor, please-"

"Don't call me that," I demanded, turning to face him. It was a choice I regretted immediately, because I was so close to him, and as the full force of his beauty hit me I felt an overwhelming desire to throw myself into his arms, one I ordered myself to deny.

He smiled slightly, shook his head. "I'm not going to call you anything else."

I rolled my eyes at his expression, ignored the softness in it. "Well that works out perfectly. Don't call me anything. I have to go." And I did. I had to escape, had to be free of his presence, because the longer I was close to him the more I wanted to throw myself at his feet and beg. But I wouldn't. I'd done that already.

"Where?" Reaching for me, he pulled me close and held me against him, and I didn't try to free myself because… I didn't want to. It felt too good to be in his arms, and, well, I didn't have the willpower not to be, just one last time. "Where else do you have to be?"

"Away." I looked up into his face, into his dark hazel eyes, and refused to allow myself to read anything in them. "As far away from you as possible."

"Don't," he breathed, caressing my cheek. "Please don't."

Avoiding his touch, I finally attempted to pull away from him, not that it made much of a difference, since he refused to release me. "Now you're not being fair," I accused, fighting to keep my voice from breaking. "You've told me how you feel. I understand it, I respect it, I don't blame you. But it is not fair of you to come here like this, do this to me… And I know life isn't fair but I always thought you would be."

"Honor-" he began, and this time my anger gave me the strength to break his hold on me… His physical hold, at least.

"I told you not to call me that," I said, backing away, thinking that if he said my given name in that gentle tone one more time I'd be crying in his arms before he could finish the second syllable.

He advanced on me, took my upper arms in a firm but not painful grip, and looked at me very seriously. "And I told you I'm not going to call you anything else. Everyone in the entire world can use your stage name, I don't care, but the woman I fell in love with is named Honor and that's what I'm going to call her."

I closed my eyes tightly against the wave of emotion that washed over me at his words. But I didn't believe them, couldn't let myself believe them, no matter how desperately I wanted to. This was clearly a fantasy or a dream or a hallucination, perhaps brought on by the fact that I was slowly freezing to death; it could not possibly be reality, because in reality I knew I wasn't worthy of love, and especially not his. "I have to go."

Wrapping his arms around me, he pressed his cheek to mine. "Don't, please, please don't. Don't go anywhere I can't follow," he murmured, and the tenderness in his voice was my undoing. A single tear escaped, practically freezing on my skin.

"Don't do this to me," I begged, shaking my head despite the fact that I knew he couldn't see it. He could feel it, and that was enough. "Please. God, please. I can't stand it."

"Just listen, okay? Just let me say what I came here to say, and then… If you still want to, tell me to go." He pulled away slightly, tipped my face up, carefully brushed the tear away. "I can't promise I will. But you can tell me."

I shook my head again. "Please. I told you I understood how you feel. I do. But I can't hear it again, Will. I'm not that strong, and you… I never thought you could be that cruel."

"I've been cruel to you," he admitted. "But I didn't mean to be. I'm not trying to be now. I just need you to listen, that's all. I'm not here to hurt you, I swear."

"But you are," I whispered. "Just seeing you hurts me."

He smiled, an almost imperceptible movement of his lips, a sad little quirk. "Seeing you doesn't hurt me. Seeing you makes me feel… Like everything could be alright again. If you'd just listen. I heard you out, Honor," he reminded me. "Maybe my reaction wasn't what you wanted, but I heard what you had to say. Be fair to me."

"This isn't a negotiation, Will," I snapped. "I'm under no obligation to stand here and listen to you tell me how much I hurt you. I know I hurt you. I can't forget it, and I don't need you to remind me."

"You did hurt me. Badly," he stated, and I felt a painful twisting in my chest at his tone, half broken and half confused, like he didn't entirely understand how it had happened. Which I could relate to, because I couldn't understand it either. "And this last year has been… Like you said. Empty. But I think… I think it's different for me, because my life was never empty like that before. And then suddenly you were gone and it's like everything else was gone too. It scared me, okay? Still scares me," he added. "And when you just showed up three nights ago, I didn't know how to react. All I could think was that I had to protect myself, because what you did to me… I couldn't go through it again."

And how on earth did he think hearing this wouldn't hurt me all over again? I tried to pull away from him. "Stop, please, I understand-"

He silenced me with a finger laid gently on my lips, held me in place with his other hand. "Don't. Let me just…" Trailing off, he attempted to gather his thoughts, and the look of concentration on his face was… endearing, or would have been if I wasn't feeling so traumatized. "I thought the only thing that could hurt worse than what you did to me last year would be you doing something similar again. I thought sending you away would keep me safe."

"Stop," I begged, my lips moving against his finger like a kiss. "Please stop."

"But hurting you…" he continued, inexorably. "Seeing your pain, knowing I caused it… That was worse. And the very worst was realizing it was pointless. I used to think I wanted to be with you, in some vague kind of way, but now I know I need to be. I love you. God, I love you, and I can't send you away because you're-" he laughed suddenly, shook his head. "I sound like a greeting card. But I can't help it. You're in my heart, okay? And in my mind and my soul and I can't… Can't get rid of you. I tried. For a year I tried. For the last three days I tried. And I don't want to try anymore."

The way I felt after he said this is… Very difficult to explain. It was as though everything in the world stopped, my thoughts, my heart, my lungs, everything, and I was just completely immobile, inanimate, incapable of any reaction for several endless seconds. And then I was crying, really crying, in a way I hadn't since I was young, gasping, sobbing, burying my face against his chest.

"Honor, please," he whispered as he stroked my hair. "Please don't cry. I don't mean to make you unhappy. I'll go, I'll go… If you tell me it's what you want, I'll go away and you'll never see me again."

I looked up at him, water still streaming down my face, and shook my head. "No. No. Don't you dare. You had your chance to get rid of me, you didn't take it… And now you have to deal with the consequences."

He began to smile as though he wasn't sure he should. "And what might those b-"

The end of his question was cut off as I touched my mouth to his. Without hesitation he crushed me to him, his arms wrapped around my waist so tightly it should have hurt, and deepened the kiss until I could taste him even through the salt of my tears. It was the kind of kiss with serious potential, the kind of kiss that could easily develop into all manner of intriguing activities. But suddenly, a rogue thought came unbidden to my mind, and I pulled away from him.

"What?" he asked, worried. "Did I do something wrong?"

I shook my head, smiling up into his beautiful, beloved (if somewhat confused) face. "You know something? You're worse than I am," I said, and I was actually giggling, god help me. "I thought my songs were cheesy, but that… That whole speech, that was worse."

He grinned, the expression breaking over his face bright like the dawn. "Oh, it was, was it?"

"Absolutely," I answered, and just felt… Light. In both senses of the word, as in the opposite of heavy, but also as in sunlight or daylight or… Any kind of light, warm and radiant and filling me until I'm sure I glowed with it.

Looking deep into my eyes, he framed my face with his hands. "Shut up."

I raised my eyebrows, bit my lip suggestively. "Shut me up."

…And he did, until the last hint of salt was nothing more than a memory.

FIN

But wait, there's more...