A/N: Song featured is Goo Goo Dolls' "Broadway".

Caroline thumbed vaguely through the sheet music in the library—she already knew what music she was going to use to audition, but she always liked to check out the selection for an extra back-up. She pulled out a promising-looking folder and leaned against a bookcase.

Her eye caught movement in her direction, and she looked up to see an awkwardly geek-chic junior walking towards her. Her heart ached as she watched her ex move slowly in her direction: she missed him a lot since their senseless break-up. However, she was still almost equally angry at him for instigating it, so she chose to adopt a semi-cold look as he approached her. "What?" she asked.

"Umm." Her teammate was never good with nervous situations, and apparently she had caused him some anxiety. Good. "Look," he finally said, going for a matter-of-fact tone. "I know that we still have issues, but I was hoping we could stay professionally civil, since we're both in Glee and all." Caroline said nothing, but her expression softened, and the boy in front of her took the act as a temporary sign of truce. "Honestly, I still need a costume designer, and you were the first person I thought of. You're the best with this stuff, Care, and I'm sincerely asking you to put aside us and help the team."

Caroline regarded him thoughtfully. "Fine," she replied. "But I'm not just designing, so I need you to extend me the same courtesy when I audition." She eyed him intensely. Despite what she had told Katie, she was worried about the musical. The word around McKinley seemed pretty torn on who was better suited for the two parts between the three of them, and the girls themselves seemed to be avoiding speaking about it amongst themselves. The freshman thought maybe it was to dissuade adding fuel to the gossip fire, but she couldn't help but notice that Annie and Michelle both seemed more confident around each other, as if on some level they agreed with The Jenns that the newest Fabray didn't work for what she received so much as lucked into it.

"When I get the lead, I need it to be because I was the best," she added earnestly, and smiled as the tall boy nodded with a knowing smile. She felt a boost of confidence as she returned the gesture and went back to her music.

Teddy, meanwhile, felt both relieved and slightly giddy as he made his way down the hall. He had missed Caroline so much and wished every day he could tell her what an idiot he was for ever hinting that he wanted to break up with her, but until today she hadn't even wanted to look at him. Now things were going pretty well for the director.

Except, "So professional ethics are pretty much completely out the window with you, huh?"

Teddy felt puzzled as he turned to face Liam, who was standing next to Andrew staring him down as they wore equal expressions of disgust. "What?" he asked.

"When you asked us to help out with casting, you didn't say you were planning on giving all of the parts away before auditions were even over," Liam continued. "Did you just want us to sit there with you to make it look legit?"
"What are you talking about? I haven't given all of the parts away," his friend argued.

"We know you talked to Everett," Andrew admitted quietly.

"And we just saw what happened between you and Caroline," Liam accused less gently.

Teddy felt his back hit the cold metal of the lockers, and realized he'd been backing away from his friends' charges without realizing it. He stood up straighter and glared defiantly at the two boys. "Look, first—we both know that Everett needs to be in this thing. We've all heard and seen him on stage, and he's the best we've got. And I didn't offer Caroline anything."
"Didn't you?" Liam reproached.

"No!" Teddy immediately defended, then hesitated—had he? "I just wanted her to know I wouldn't let my feelings affect her chances in the audition."

"Personal feelings are hard to move past Teddy," Andrew reminded him sympathetically. "You still like her, and no one blames you for that, but you may subconsciously be trying to pick her to prove something as much as if you didn't."

"That's what I have Finn and Coach Beiste for then," Teddy maintained. "Because my second point was that you guys never actually agreed to help me. And I'm sorry I didn't tell you straight away, but you can't throw this in my face just because you're jealous it wasn't offered to you."

Liam and Andrew both looked stung by the retort, and Teddy regretted it immediately. "Guys—" he tried to apologize.

"No, we get it," the lanky sophomore bit, shoving his Clark Kent frames closer to his frosty expression. "The call of the stage drowns out any other loyalties—we get it."

The frizzy-haired boy watched disappointedly as his two friends huffed and turned down the hallway.

Broadway's dark tonight, Liam sang darkly as they walked down the hallway. A little bit weaker than you used to be

Broadway's dark tonight

See the young man sittin' in the old man's bar, waitin' for his turn to die

The song transitioned, and as he spun around, the boys were on stage in the auditorium

The cowboy kills the rock star, he sang angrily. And Friday night's gone too far

The dim light hides the years on all the faded girls

Forgotten but not gone, Andrew's voice rang out as he stepped beside his friend. You drank it off your mind.

The boys harmonized together You talk about the world like it's someplace that you've been.

Liam glared at an image of Teddy in his mind's eye as the junior went over notes with Finn and Coach Beiste, You see, you'd love to run home, but you know you ain't got one

Cuz you're livin' in a world that you're best forgotten, around here

The lanky boy faced the guitarist and mirrored the riff on the chord, Broadway's dark tonight
A little bit weaker than you used to be
He walked close to the edge of the stage, still glaring, Broadway's dark tonight
Andrew stepped up next to him and they duetted together, See the young man sittin' in the old man's bar waitin' for his turn to die

You choke down all your anger, Liam sang as he strode through the hallway and past Teddy again in his memory as he watched his friend handing papers to the potential cast, Forget your only son
You pray to statues when you sober up for fun
Your anger don't impress me, the world slapped in your face
It always rains like hell on the loser's day parade

The sophomore watched as Andrew took the verse while focused on the computer screen in the AV lab, You see, you'd love to run home, but you know you ain't got one
Cuz you're livin' in a world that you're best forgotten
Liam fell back against the door frame and glanced outside where Caroline walked past with a confident smile, When you're thinkin' you're a joke and nobody's gonna listen
To the one small point I know they've been missing around here
Round here, yeah

Andrew and Liam sang out together on the stage, Broadway's dark tonight
A little bit weaker than you used to be
Broadway's dark tonight
See the young man sittin' in the old man's bar
Waitin' for his turn to die

Liam turned away and stormed off stage, Andrew following unhappily after him.

Hayley surveyed the hallway as the flow of students moved past her. She admitted that while many of them didn't look at her, too wrapped up in their own lives to notice, she still felt a surge of pride in those that did glance her way, as they quickly shifted their gaze to the floor and quickened their pace.

This was what she had meant—Stassi's prowess had been directly correlated with her popularity and her connection to Nikki Hardy, HBIC. The girl was impressive, no doubt, but to have one's influence so swayed by something so fickle as a school hierarchy, in Hayley's mind, called into question the credibility of that influence. She, on the other hand, commanded a level of intimidation within the population regardless of who she was friends with or what activities she did. She was untouchable.

A tall sophomore in thick-framed glasses strode past, his camera bag banging against his hip rhythmically as he moved his hand to hitch the strap further on his shoulder. Hayley watched with interest as Liam made his way to his locker, fiddling distractedly with the combination. The girl had noticed her prankster counterpart in a mood for the last day or so, and had decided that it was a good opportunity to branch out and offer a display of comraderie.

She bounced on the balls of her feet as he yanked open the door, eyes following the string at the top of his locker that flipped a switch connected to a speaker above him. She knew he'd love the song she'd chosen—a Bon Jovi classic that she'd cut up from his own private sound bites that she was sure would cheer him up out of the funk he'd found himself in. She leaned in eagerly.

"I know just how to whisper, and I know just how to cry" projected the monotonous, stilted voice of Principal Figgins from the stereo. "I know just where to find the answers, and I know just how to lie."

Hayley's eyebrows shot up into her bangs. What the hell? The entire student body had completely halted in their tracks as they all stared dumbfounded at the speaker showcasing the hilariously awful singing talents of their principal as he sang a cringe-worthy song.

The brunette's eyes flitted back over to Liam, who was staring at a jingling set of dancing hula girls she'd set up on his shelf, now completely out of rhythm with the music. His brown gaze found hers and noted her own surprised expression with some puzzlement.

The lanky boy took a step toward her, but his path was blocked by a livid and highly embarrassed little Indian man looking ready to explode at Hayley.

"Ms. Montenegro, my office immediately!" he shouted, and whirled back down the hall and out of sight, clearly expecting the red-streaked girl to follow post haste. As her feet scuffled after him, Hayley tried to maintain a serious manner in order to work out an alibi, though it was hard not to laugh with the others even as the song faded as she distanced herself from the recording.

But I'm never gonna make it without you, do you really want to see me crawl?

And I'm never gonna make it like you do, making love out of nothing at all.

And so, after stewing in the office alone for fifteen minutes, Hayley now found herself facing down a very ticked Figgins with no certainty of how to talk her way out of trouble. Was he going to try to suspend her? Expel her? She'd set up the prank—it had her signature all over it. The recording was the only thing that had been tampered with, and she couldn't figure out who could have been smart enough, with enough of a vendetta, to pull it off.

"Ms. Montenegro, Mr. Stewart has approached me on your behalf and assured me that the little prank was merely an outlet of creative energy between the two of you," the sputtering adult managed to tell her, obviously not pleased with the girl possessing a sponsor in the prank. "He has also pointed out that since no one has been physically injured and no school property damaged, that these outlets have not specifically violated any school protocol." Hayley's ears perked up at the news, although she still warily watched as Figgins leaned forward in his desk. "However, this has obviously been an unmitigated school disruption—"

"It was during the passing period!" Hayley countered, suddenly feeling like she had a shot at avoiding the snare the adult was trying to set up as the cost of his embarrassment. "The noise was only audible from a maximum of fifty feet down the halls, and no classes were in session, Fig-dizzle." She suddenly felt smug as she leaned back in her seat.

The older educator did not seem swayed by her confidence. "Despite your precautions, I believe that this could easily lead to a slippery slope back into your prior acts of terrorism throughout the school," he asserted. "And I have anonymous student complaints suggesting the very same concerns. I have given the situation much thought, and as a musical outlet alleviated some of your energy before, I have been inspired to repeat my prior decision."

"You're going to make me join Glee again?" Hayley replied in confusion, before her face warped into dread as realization slowly dawned again. "No," she said forcefully. "You can't possibly—"

Figgins glowed in pride of his own idea. "I have spoken to Mr. Schuester and Coach Beiste, and you will be working under Mr. Abrams and Mr. Hudson as choreography director in the school musical." He smiled happily at the sophomore. "You will start Thursday by aiding them in their final stage of auditions."

"No—wait, Figgy, no-no-no-no-no." Hayley stood up at the same time the principal did, but she couldn't seem to shake him from his good humor. "You can't punish me like this just because of one prank!"
"Don't look at it as a punishment, Ms. Montenegro," the Indian man's stilted voice assured her as he opened his office door to let her out. "Try looking at it as an opportunity to redirect your love for other people's musicality to more appropriate channels. Thursday afternoon in the auditorium! I expect to hear good things about your participation!"

Hayley scowled unhappily and stormed off down the halls, not even noticing her tiny bespectacled teammate sitting quietly and despondently in the chair just outside the door.

"Ah, Ms. Lovely, please come it." Roxie stood carefully and walked silently into the office. She hated getting called into Mr. Figgins' office—since he was the only faculty member that knew about her condition, he seemed to only call her to see him when he wanted to talk about it. It made it incredibly difficult to associate him with anything else, even if she saw him in the halls. And the fact that he looked thrilled about whatever Hayley had stormed out about simply made her feel worse.

She felt her stomach sink as his face sobered and his tone grew serious as he shut the door. "Ms. Lovely, as I explained to you earlier, I have recently spoken to your father and he has voiced his concern over your recent activity levels in the Glee Club."

"Titch?" her father had called softly as he knocked on her door. Before she could answer, he had stepped inside and given her a worried look.

They sat together on her bed, with the tiny girl refusing to look at the man who was still desperately trying to make her understand. "Love, please just listen," he pleaded. "I see you in pain every day—we've already talked to the doctor and started you up on meds again. Surely you can understand the fears we have?" She remained silent. "Roxie, you can't keep burning both ends the way you are if you want to keep out of a wheelchair, with the club and work and everything. I'm not saying give up your friends, or even that you have to tell them—"

"You just want me to suddenly quit Glee Club?" she demanded, her head jerking up to glare into Patrick Lovely's eyes. "Like I won't lose the friends I have when I betray them like that?" She stood forcefully, flinching slightly in pain but not losing any momentum with her fury. "And with all of the money we're going to be spending on the meds and doctors, how can we afford to have me quit work? How will I be able to make any new clothes?" She could see "we'll find a way" forming in the man's throat and harrumphed lividly as she turned her back to him.

"Roxanne Catrina Lovely," the man asserted forcefully, apparently finished with her tantrum. "I would rather go broke financially than watch you do so physically. You will quit BreadstiX—we'll sort the money situation later. And as for your club—" she looked at him hopefully, and he sighed. "—I'll think of something, alright?"

And now she was sitting in Principal Figgins office, waiting for the axe to fall.

"With your current limitations, we discussed potential opportunities for your newfound interest in school extra-curriculars, and have come to what I believe is an excellent solution." He walked to the door and gestured to a person outside. Roxie watched wide-eyed as Coach Roz sashayed into the room.

"Uh-huh," she assessed, looking at the tiny girl. "You definitely ain't much, but I did not win the Bronze Medal in the Olympics because I wasn't willing to take on a challenge."

Roxie couldn't bring herself to say anything. She didn't know what she was supposed to say.

"Then it's settled," Figgins concluded as though there had been an explanation in the moments of silence. "Ms. Lovely will take an indefinite sabbatical from Glee and work out in Coach Roz's swim team's adaptive aquatics program." Roxie arched a skeptical eyebrow at the man in front of her, but he seemed to be oblivious. "I have every confidence that you will be as much of a success in your maritime adventures as you've been in show choir, and that the bonus funds donated by the Physical Therapy Department of Lima Memorial will be put to good use."

Roxie wasn't sure how she came to be on the other side of the door, but sure enough she was standing in the hall, trying to put together everything that had just happened. Apparently her father's research of alternative therapies had panned out with something that the school could put into effect for her without anyone finding out about her condition. However—

"I expect you to be able to do your own transitions," the dark-skinned teacher told her as she stepped beside the tiny brunette. "You tell that Suburgatory Melodrama Teacher Man that you're leaving and I will see you Friday for your first work-out. Be prepared to work—ain't no sit-and-singing-fun-time club on my team."

Roxie couldn't think of anything to say or do, so she merely nodded and walked stiffly toward her next class, her mind as heavy as her sore legs.