FYI: for some reason, Gmail put the email alert for the previous chapter (plus a few other notifications from FFN) in my spam folder. So, if you get email alerts for updates to this story and you use Gmail, I suggest checking to see if it's doing the same for you! Not sure what that's about. Get a grip, Gmail.
The stuff in this chapter about Blaine/Sam/Artie dealing with Becky is all inspired by stuff that they actually filmed for this episode but cut before the episode aired. FOX released a bunch of stills of Blaine as Nightbird and Blaine/Sam/Artie interrogating Becky in the days leading up to this episode, but we never got much context for them (and that whole arc was cut from the final edit of the episode) so I just made it all up! :)
I gave Kurt and Blaine a duet for this episode... basically, the way I imagine it is Blaine singing his portion at the piano in the choir room as part of the week's assignment and Kurt singing his part as he's walking down the street in New York. One of those he's-singing-but-nobody-notices moments that Rachel has all the time. ;)
(I do not own Glee or any of the characters, dialogue, or songs from the show. It's all just for fun!)
KURT
On Monday afternoon, Kurt got a text from Blaine as he sat on the train that carried him back to Bushwick every day.
Power went out at McKinley during glee rehearsal.
Despite his mind telling him that a power outage wasn't dangerous, Kurt felt a surge of anxiety that he justified by reminding himself that it hadn't been very long since the incident with Sue's gun. Are you okay? he texted Blaine back. Where are you?
I'm fine! Blaine returned almost immediately. Mr. Schu actually worked this week's assignment around the lack of electricity... "unplugged".
Oh, he texted again immediately after, and I'm sitting in my car in the parking lot. Getting ready to drive home.
Kurt knew he didn't have to tell Blaine not to look at his phone again until he got home. None of them would ever text and drive after what had happened to Quinn.
I'm on my way home, too, Kurt texted him, adding a smiley face to the end of the sentence. Drive safely!
I will! Blaine replied. Try not to fall asleep on the train. Love you.
Kurt rolled his eyes and put his phone away so he could spend the thirty minutes he had left on the train working on homework.
As usual, Santana wasn't at the apartment when he arrived. Rachel came home a few hours later, but Kurt knew that Santana wouldn't return until extremely late that evening. Or possibly very early the next morning.
"Okay," Kurt admitted as he and Rachel worked on dinner, "I really need to know if Santana's situation is bothering you as much as it is bothering me, because I feel insane for being so concerned about her when she's such a bitch pretty much all the time."
"Yes," Rachel said, sighing in relief as if she had also been carrying around secret worry for their roommate. "I mean, she's so talented and beautiful and smart, but she's spending her time basically shaking her ass for tips."
"She could do so much better," Kurt agreed. "And that's not even the worst of it... Tina called me earlier and told me she's got a second job as a bouncer at some lesbian beer garden now."
"No," Rachel whined.
"It's true," Kurt said seriously.
"You know," Rachel said thoughtfully, "a few weeks ago Santana sat me down – or, well, we were standing in the waiting room of the clinic, but anyway – and she said some stuff that I really needed to hear about getting a grip on my ambition and my future..."
Kurt nodded. "We have to stage an intervention," he agreed. "But I was the one who had to kick her out before, so you get to do most of the talking this time."
They were sitting in the living room, still talking strategy for their impromptu intervention, when Santana walked in the door a few hours later.
"Wait for it..." Santana said as she backed through the door, dragging a rundown chair into the apartment with her.
"Right?" she announced as the chair came into view. She dragged it into the living room so Kurt and Rachel could see it better. "Found this out by the dumpster. With a little TLC and three clicks from Kurt's ruby slippers, this bad boy would be salvageable."
"Um, can you please take a seat?" Rachel requested. "Because Kurt and I would like to have a conversation with you."
"Okay, you know what, Rachel?" Santana said, stepping over to grab one of her jackets to throw over her new chair so she wouldn't have to sit on its decrepit fabric. "If you are still obsessing over what you're going to sing at your Funny Girl callback, may I suggest your best jam ever: Run Joey Run."
"We think you're throwing your life away," Rachel said firmly, ignoring Santana's comments.
Santana looked at each of them but didn't say anything.
"It's bad enough you let those horny tourists grope you for tips at that awful Coyote Ugly bar," Kurt elaborated, "but Tina just informed me that you are now a bouncer at a lesbian beer garden?"
He stood up and walked around to lean on his chair from behind. He was too restless to sit still.
"And you're a go-go girl," Rachel worried. "A go-go girl!"
"I am a cage dancer," Santana corrected. "Big difference. I'm dressed as Barbarella and I'm sorry, but some of us actually need to work for a living."
"That's not the point, okay?" Rachel argued as Kurt rolled his eyes and wandered over to stand near the living room window. "You're so talented, Santana. You're like the most talented person I know, obviously with the exception of me and Kurt."
She motioned at Kurt and he nodded his agreement.
"Your voice – it's electric!" Rachel continued passionately. "And I would kill for half of your dancing abilities. So, I'm telling you what you told me, which is you just need to stop and focus on your talent."
"Well, maybe I don't want to be in Funny Girl, okay?" Santana retorted, her tone growing more defensive with every word. "Or be a singing waiter at the Fire Island Pancake Shack. So why don't you just stop trying to force all of your creaky old-time Broadway dreams onto my amazingly awesome dream."
"And what's that?" Rachel inquired.
Santana hesitated.
"I am trying to figure that out," she acknowledged. She glanced at Kurt and then back at Rachel. "What is so wrong with taking a little time to figure things out?"
"Nothing!" Kurt encouraged her. "But what about doing something in the meantime? Like dance lessons. NYADA has a great extension program for non-students, right?" he glanced at Rachel and she agreed. "Something to keep your motors revved, you know?"
"My 'motor' is revved every night that I cage dance," Santana replied as she stood up. "And, while I appreciate your pity, I don't really think I need to be taking any advice from TV's Blossom," she pointed at Rachel before motioning at Kurt, "and Lady Elaine Fairchilde."
She turned and walked out of the apartment.
"Would you take your chair with you?" Kurt called after her, but she ignored him.
"At least she closed the door behind her this time," Rachel commented as the door latched closed.
"Baby steps," Kurt agreed as he stared at the closed door.
They had both been able to see in Santana's eyes that their concerns were well-founded. Santana wasn't happy with her life. Maybe she just needed a little more time to work things out.
BLAINE
The next afternoon, Sam was the first to perform a song that fit the week's "unplugged" theme in the still-dark choir room.
"You never close your eyes anymore when I kiss your lips. And there's no tenderness, like before, in your fingertips. You're trying hard not to show it, but baby, baby I know it. You've lost that lovin' feelin'. Woah, that lovin' feeling. You've lost that lovin' feelin'. Now it's gone, gone, gone."
The song, along with nearly everything else in Blaine's life over the past few days, made Blaine think of Kurt. He had been pondering the idea of proposing to Kurt almost nonstop since Unique had accidentally planted the idea in his mind the week before. He had decided to wait to make any concrete plans until he saw Kurt the following week (when Kurt was going to return to Ohio for Burt's appointment) – trusting that he would somehow know if he should propose or not when he finally saw Kurt in person again – but the delay in action didn't stop his brain from running through scenario after scenario.
If he was going to propose, should he do it somewhere private, like in one of their bedrooms? Or should he make it a huge production, like when Mr. Schu had enlisted New Directions to help him propose to Ms. Pillsbury with a choreographed number in the swimming pool? He could see it both ways. A private proposal would take the pressure off of Kurt to react a certain way, which might result in the most honest reaction. But Blaine knew that Kurt had always dreamed of a grand proposal. Something memorable.
It was overwhelming to think about.
Would Kurt say yes?
Blaine was torn. Part of him offered an unequivocal affirmative. Of course Kurt would say yes. Kurt loved him. But there was also a sliver of doubt in Blaine's mind. What if Kurt turned him down? Technically, as Kurt was always quick to remind Blaine, they weren't boyfriends. But did that matter? They were soul mates, which was so much more.
He had a week to decide what to do.
"We had a love, a love, a love you don't find every day. Oh baby, so don't, don't, don't, don't let it slip away. Baby, bring back that lovin' feelin'. Oh, that lovin' feelin'. Bring back that lovin' feelin' 'cause it's gone, gone, gone. And I can't go on."
"Wow, see that guys?" Mr. Schu complimented as the group applauded Sam's performance and Sam returned to his seat. "That's the kind of power and passion that we need for Regionals. Good job, Sam!"
"Next up..." Mr. Schu looked around, trying to decide who to choose, "Artie, show us what you've got!"
Artie rolled to the piano and hesitated.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Schu," he resisted, "I can't do Miguel without my synth! I needs my synth!" he wailed before dropping his head onto the piano keys.
"No," Sam criticized, "you needs to man up."
"Excuse me?" Artie retorted, lifting his head from the piano.
Sam stood up as Artie rolled around the piano back to the center of the room. "You know how often the power went off at my house?" Sam argued. "How many times my dad couldn't afford to pay the stupid bill?"
"Relax, dude," Artie replied.
"I had to entertain my brother and sister with just my guitar and my voice," Sam explained. "We didn't have any synth. And, like, I saw you texting during my song," Sam added as Artie started to look uncomfortable. "And it's not just you; it's all of us. We're so focused on being plugged into the twitterverse and the blogosphere that we don't appreciate what's actually right in front of us and I think that that's just sad and lame."
What could any of them say to that? It made sense. Artie nodded and rolled back to his place among the other students. Mr. Schu called on Marley to perform, instead, and rehearsal carried on as if the little argument hadn't happened.
After glee practice, Blaine grabbed Sam and Artie before they could leave so he could ask for a favor.
"I need to search Coach Sue's office," he explained quietly as they huddled together near the piano.
"We looked around in there already," Sam whispered back as Artie looked from Blaine to Sam and then back again.
"Exactly," Blaine said. "We looked, but we didn't gather any evidence. We need to search in the file cabinets and in the desk, and now's the perfect time to do it."
"It's already dark," Artie understood.
Blaine nodded.
"I'll meet you both in the guys' bathroom near the office in thirty minutes," Blaine decided. "Wear your costumes."
Half an hour later, Nightbird, Blonde Chameleon, and Doctor Y (the latter two without costumes because they had left them at home) snuck into Sue's old office – still only about halfway set up for Roz Washington – and got to work searching for anything that might offer a clue to the truth of what had happened the day the gun went off.
"Anything?" Sam asked after they had been searching for five minutes in complete silence.
"Negative," Artie said. "There's not even a place for a gun safe in here... where did she keep the gun?"
"There has to be something," Blaine said desperately.
He glanced toward the windows that separated the office from the hallway to check for lights that would signal an approaching teacher or administrator, but the hallway was dark. As he turned his attention back to the final desk drawer he hadn't searched, the paper shredder in the corner of the room caught his attention.
It was full.
"Here!" Blaine whispered loudly. He closed the desk drawer and rushed over to pull the lid off the shredder to reveal all the narrow strips of paper inside.
"For all we know, Coach Washington shredded that stuff," Sam suggested.
"Maybe," Blaine allowed, "but –"
The sound of a door slamming and an accompanying voice – someone talking on their phone, Blaine guessed – sent a shot of adrenaline through all three students.
"We're trapped!" Artie hissed as they all turned off their flashlights.
"We have to go out the window," Sam suggested as the voice grew louder. It wasn't a voice any of them recognized, but Blaine knew they would be in a lot of trouble if anyone caught them snooping around in Roz's office.
"I can't go out the window!" Artie argued.
"Yes, you can," Blaine decided. "Sam..." he motioned toward the windows that opened to outside.
Blaine grabbed the paper shredder, opened his bag, and dumped the strips of paper in. As he reassembled the shredder so nobody would notice that he had touched it, he heard Sam lifting Artie out of his wheelchair.
"You cannot throw my wheelchair out the window," Artie disapproved.
"Shh!" Sam scolded. "We're not going to throw it out the window."
With Artie in Sam's arms, Blaine folded the wheelchair down so it was as thin as possible and then dragged it out the window behind him. He landed in the grass below the window with a soft thump, immediately realizing that he had made a mistake in jumping out before the wheelchair as it crashed down on top of him.
"Blaine?" Sam asked.
"Shh, I'm fine!" Blaine whispered as he shoved the wheelchair off and looked up to see Sam, holding Artie, sitting on the edge of the windowsill.
"Oh god," Artie whined.
Sam lowered Artie down enough so Blaine could grab him and pull him the rest of the way into his arms, and then Sam jumped down, pulling the window closed behind him. Blaine held Artie while Sam set up the wheelchair and, once Artie was settled, they paused and listened.
"This was all for nothing," Artie huffed as they heard nothing but silence.
"We couldn't risk it, dude," Sam said seriously.
"Okay," Blaine said as they snuck along the side of the building to the sidewalk, "let's go to the library and see if we can put some of this together."
The librarian barely glanced at the trio as they walked into the library. Blaine wore his Nightbird costume on a regular enough basis that everyone was used to it, and the library was open after school until six o'clock so they were still allowed to be there.
Blaine glanced at the clock.
"We have to hurry," he suggested.
They set up their lanterns and went to work piecing all the papers back together. It was especially difficult because Blaine had poured everything into his bag – messing up any possible order the strips of paper had been in inside the shredder – but, by the time the librarian started pestering them that she was going to lock up soon, they had reassembled almost everything.
"Nothing," Sam said, defeated, as they gathered the reassembled papers and prepared to leave.
Blaine sighed his agreement. The shredder contained a bunch of strange receipts and a few pages that made up an article from a cheerleading magazine, but nothing incriminating.
They were going to have to get their information from Becky, or maybe Coach Sue herself, if they were ever going to find out the truth.
KURT
On Tuesday afternoon, Kurt rushed from his final class to Vogue dot com and was surprised to find a note on his desk.
Come see me as soon as you arrive. – Isabelle
Internally, Kurt panicked.
She was going to fire him.
When he had first arrived in New York, he had been looking for something to occupy all his time. As a result, he had accepted a full time internship at Vogue dot com, but, since being accepted to NYADA, his hours spent working for the website had declined significantly.
Nobody had ever commented on his unusual schedule; they all knew he was now a full time student at NYADA. But Kurt had never officially cleared the change of schedule with Isabelle, and he had been secretly scared that he was going to be in trouble for it ever since his first day at NYADA.
Kurt tried to relax as he wandered down the hall to the room where Isabelle was waiting. If she was going to fire him, at least she was likely to be kind about it.
"Great," Isabelle was talking on the phone when he arrived, "so we'll include a Blu-Ray of Black Swan and a gift bag and a note from the director... 'How Ballet Inspired Me'. Oh, that's perfect. Thanks, Darren, I appreciate it. Oh! And, um, listen. You're at my table, seated next to Christopher, so be nice. Alright, bye."
"Darren...?" Kurt wondered as she ended the call.
"Aronofsky," Isabelle clarified. "Christopher Nolan."
"Oh," Kurt realized.
"You may be seated," Isabelle said as she settled into a chair at the table. Kurt sat down and tried not to panic as Isabelle asked, "So, first of all, how is your dad?"
"Oh," Kurt was surprised by the question, "uh, thank you for asking! He's doing good. He's back at work and all of his treatments seem to be working."
"Good," Isabelle smiled. "I'm happy to hear that."
"I thought that you might've called me in here because, um, you were gonna fire me," Kurt admitted, just to get it over with.
"What?" Isabelle laughed. "Why would I do that?"
"When you gave me the internship, you said it would be 24/7," Kurt recalled, "and, ever since I got accepted to NYADA..."
"... you haven't been coming in as much," Isabelle said with mock sternness. "We've noticed. But, quality trumps quantity, always. And, though NYADA's gain is Vogue dot com's loss," she placed a dramatic hand over her heart, "I will never stop anyone from pursuing their passion."
"Bless you, fairy godmother," Kurt breathed.
"But," Isabelle said, "I need your help. You know I'm co-chairing the gala for New York City Ballet's educational programs?"
"Yeah, it's only the social event of the performing arts season," Kurt acknowledged.
"My celebrity wrangler just canceled," Isabelle explained. "It was going to be Anna's daughter, but she got the chicken pox à la Barbara Walters."
Kurt struggled to sit still as his heart rate accelerated. Was she asking him to go with her to the gala?
"So," Isabelle said, teasing him, "I need somebody. I need somebody good who can dive in ASAP."
"If anyone else does this, I will literally die," Kurt accepted.
"Alright!" Isabelle laughed as her phone buzzed on the table in front of her. "And listen, um, if you want to draft a couple of friends to help you out, that's good too."
She smiled at him as she answered her phone ("Yeah?"), and Kurt knew he was dismissed.
He spent the next few hours pouring all of his attention into what he would be doing at the gala. Making sure all the rich and famous people in the room were taken care of and staying out of trouble. Kurt was so excited that he didn't notice everyone leaving until a sharp rapping sound on the wall near his desk startled him and he looked up to see Isabelle standing beside his desk.
"Oh!" he glanced around at the mostly-dark office. "Oh my god, I didn't even realize –"
"I knew I picked the right man for the job," Isabelle teased. "Come on."
They locked up and left the office, and Isabelle insisted on paying for a cab to take Kurt back to the apartment.
Kurt hugged her just before getting into the taxi, unable to resist.
"Thank you so much for this opportunity," he gushed as he released her.
"I have faith in you, Kurt Hummel," Isabelle smiled. "Goodnight."
When the taxi dropped Kurt off outside his building, he ran up the stairs as fast as he could.
"Ladies!" Kurt sang excitedly as he hurried through the door into the apartment. Rachel was making dinner and Santana was sitting in the kitchen, so Kurt paused by the table and looked at both of them as he spoke. "What is the event the Big Apple's hoi polloi must be invited to or they'll pull a Javert and swan dive off the Chrysler building?"
"The New York City Ballet Gala, duh," Rachel answered.
"And," Kurt rushed around the table toward her, unable to contain his excitement, "guess who gets to attend if they just volunteer a few short hours?"
"Anne Hathaway?" Santana deadpanned.
"It's us!" Kurt exclaimed.
"Are you serious?" Rachel shrieked with delight.
"And just when you thought it couldn't get any gayer," Santana whined as Kurt and Rachel danced in place to celebrate their invitation to the gala, "it does."
"Make fun of it all you want," Rachel turned to her, "but the New York City Ballet Gala... it's a celebration of a timeless art. If it wasn't for ballet, I wouldn't be here. It was my gateway into show business. My dance teacher told me that I was a mini Margot Fonteyn. She taught me the power of music and, although that studio was just a tiny, moldy Lima storefront, to me it was the most beautiful place on Earth."
"I started ballet at the ripe old age of three," Kurt reminisced. "My mom enrolled me after seeing me in front of the TV jeté-ing and déboulé-ing to the Blue's Clues theme song. That ballet class was one of the few places that just seemed to fit. And, even when I saw some of the kids and their parents laughing at me, something inside my little brain said 'screw them. Just go for it, Hummel'. My can-do attitude was born in that room."
"And I skipped all that crap to study the timeless art of crunk," Santana retorted.
"Look," Rachel said excitedly, turning to Kurt, "you can tell Isabelle that I am definitely in."
"Not me," Santana declined. "Count me out."
"You mean you don't want to wear a designer dress from the legendary Vogue dot com vault that you get to keep as a gift?" Kurt wondered, leaning toward Santana over the table.
"I'm in," she said immediately.
"She's in," Rachel said knowingly.
"She's in," Kurt agreed.
"Well, you know, I look great in a gown," Santana shrugged.
"Oh, please," Rachel scolded. "You're going to have fun. We're going to have fun! Oh my god, Kurt, we have to figure out who's going to be there! What if– oh god, who knows who we might meet..."
Kurt held up a hand to stop her from grabbing him and dragging him away to plan.
"I have to call Blaine," he grinned.
"He's going to die," Rachel beamed.
"Oh, yay," Santana said, and Kurt could tell without even looking at her that she had rolled her eyes.
"Be back in a minute!" Kurt said cheerfully before hurrying through Rachel's bedroom and out the window onto the fire escape.
"Hello?" Blaine answered the phone at the last second before it would've gone to voicemail. He sounded disoriented.
"Oh god, sorry," Kurt cringed. He had forgotten how late it was.
"No, hey," Blaine said quietly, happily. "What's up?"
"You are never, not in a million years, going to guess where I'm going," Kurt challenged.
"Going?" Blaine asked.
"On Friday evening," Kurt clarified.
"Paris?" Blaine asked hopefully.
"Better!" Kurt nearly shouted. "The New York City Ballet Gala!"
"What?" Blaine gasped, appropriately surprised.
"I know!" Kurt laughed. "I can hardly believe it. Someone canceled on Isabelle so she asked me to step in. Me! And oh my god, Rachel and Santana get to come too and we're going to get to wear the most amazing clothes."
"That is... truly amazing, Kurt," Blaine said. "The Ballet Gala."
"I wish you were here to come with us," Kurt confessed.
"Me too," Blaine agreed.
"I promise I will tell you all the details as soon as I get home on Friday," Kurt said.
"I'd love that," Blaine said, and Kurt could hear the smile in his voice.
"Now go back to bed," Kurt teased.
Blaine didn't argue. "Okay," he agreed. "Goodnight."
"Goodnight," Kurt echoed. He waited until Blaine ended the call, and then he crawled back through the window and ran to find Rachel so they could stay up all night freaking out about attending such a huge event.
BLAINE
The next afternoon, Blaine decided that things were getting serious enough that he needed to talk to Coach Sue. Roz Washington was insane; honestly, Blaine thought, possibly more so than Sue. And the Cheerios were all incredibly upset about the change in leadership. Things were unraveling faster than Blaine could fix them, so Blaine decided to ask for help.
He snuck into one of Sue's fitness classes at a local gym –Sue had started freelancing as a fitness instructor after her exit from McKinley – and sweated his way through the grueling class so he could talk to the ex-cheerleading coach afterward.
As he stood up at the end of the class and the other students rushed out of the room, one of them crying because the class had been so physically demanding, Sue pointed at Blaine.
"Fact: if I hadn't mistaken you for a butch Israeli girl," Sue said, walking up to him, "I would've never let you in here."
Blaine waited for her to continue, still catching his breath after the workout.
"B, the fact that you survived my boot camp 101, also known as Sue 90x, trademark pending... I will allow you to speak," Sue informed him. "Just don't sing."
"I'll admit," Blaine explained, "I re-joined the Cheerios with the sole plan of destroying you from the inside."
"Admirable," Sue acknowledged.
"But, now that you're gone, I can see that all the Cheerio girls are lost without you," Blaine added, "and, frankly, as student council president, I'm a little worried about the kind of advice Coach Roz is giving."
"Such as?" Sue inquired.
"She wants the girls to get some of their ribs taken out so they can be more flexible," Blaine told her.
"You know, I always thought Becky could look like a young Dolly Parton with a couple less ribs," Sue mused.
"Something went down at that school," Blaine challenged, "and it has something to do with you. Some way, somehow. The kids are still shaken up; no one feels safe. Set the record straight."
He stepped around her to walk away.
"We need you Coach Sue," he added as he brushed by her.
BLAINE
The next afternoon, it was Ryder's turn to sing for the group.
"I know these songs are supposed to be unplugged," Ryder acknowledged, "but I asked Mr. Schu permission to do a full orchestration."
"Which I gladly agreed to," Mr. Schu explained, "because Ryder elegantly told me that what he wanted to unplug were his feelings."
"I want to really reveal myself through this song," Ryder said. "And, frankly, I think I kinda need the support to get there. I'd like to dedicate this song to all of us. For all the slushies, real and proverbial, that we've all taken to the face over the years."
The song was R.E.M.'s Everybody Hurts, and Blaine and the other students watched and listened as Ryder sang.
"When your day is long and the night, the night is yours alone. When you're sure you've had enough of this life, well hang on. Don't let yourself go 'cause everybody cries. And everybody hurts sometimes."
The melancholy song made Blaine think of his own darkest days; the weeks following his breakup with Kurt, when the pain of what he had done had consumed him. He had come so far since then in terms of forgiving himself, but the guilt and the memories of crying himself to sleep night after night still stung.
And then, when the song was over, Ryder confessed that he had been molested by a babysitter when he was eleven. Sam and Artie tried to make it out to be some kind of young boy's fantasy to be touched by an older woman, and Ryder backed down, trying to play it off as no big deal. The whole situation did not sit well with Blaine, but he was too shocked to say anything as it was happening. So, when rehearsal ended, Blaine jumped up to follow Ryder out of the room. Ryder got a little head start, so he was already standing at his open locker when Blaine found him.
"Hey," Blaine said, offering a friendly smile as he approached. "You okay?"
"Yeah," Ryder shrugged.
"I'm sorry about Sam and Artie," Blaine apologized on behalf of his friends. "They're –"
"You know what?" Ryder said defensively, slamming his locker closed, "who cares about them? It's not a big deal, alright?"
"I'm not... I'm just saying that there's nothing wrong with admitting that something hurts you, even if other people don't understand," Blaine responded.
"You know what I really don't need?" Ryder snapped. "Mr. Perfect coming to make sure I'm emotionally stable so I don't ruin our chances at Regionals."
"No," Blaine disagreed, frustrated, "I'm here because I want to make sure you're okay. That's it."
"Well, I'm okay," Ryder rolled his eyes.
"Clearly not," Blaine challenged.
"What do you know?" Ryder said. "You live in this happy little world where everything's easy and the worst thing that ever happens to you is some breakup with your boyfriend!"
Blaine swallowed his anger as Ryder paused and seemed to regret his outburst.
"I know a little something about the long-lasting emotional impact of a physical attack," Blaine said, trying to replace the anger he was feeling with compassion.
Suddenly, Ryder wouldn't look at him.
"Sorry," he mumbled. "I know. There's just a lot going on for me, so... I'm sorry."
"It's okay," Blaine accepted his apology. He waited until Ryder looked at him again to add, "Really."
"It did feel good to say it out loud," Ryder admitted.
Blaine nodded.
"Blaine!"
Sam's urgent voice interrupted, and Blaine turned to see Sam – or, at least, a dark shape at the end of the hallway – frantically waving at him to come.
"Go ahead," Ryder said, much calmer than he had been a few moments before. "Thanks for checking on me."
Blaine put his hand on Ryder's shoulder briefly, studying his face to make sure Ryder would be okay, before turning and running down the hallway to where Sam was waiting for him.
"Dude," Sam said, "Becky's at her locker down the hall and didn't you say Cheerios practice is canceled today? This is the moment!"
They split up. Sam ran to get Artie and Blaine ran to find Becky.
"Becky?" Blaine asked when he rounded a corner and found her just as she slammed her locker closed. "Could you come with us for a minute?"
"Whatever," Becky agreed, and she followed them into an empty classroom. Sam closed the door behind them.
"Please sit down," Blaine requested, motioning at a lone chair in front of the teacher's desk.
Becky sat down.
"Look, Becky," Sam started the interrogation as he and Blaine leaned against the large desk in front of the cheerleader. "We know you know something about what happened to Coach Sylvester."
"I do not," Becky said.
"You're a terrible liar," Artie commented from where he was situated behind the teacher's desk.
"Becky," Blaine walked over to her and leaned close to her face, putting his hands on the chair's armrests on either side of her. "This has to stop. Look at me."
She obeyed, but hesitantly.
"Who are you protecting?" Blaine asked.
"Nobody," Becky said firmly.
"I don't believe you," Blaine pressed.
"That's your problem," Becky shot back.
Blaine glanced at Sam, who shrugged.
"You are going to tell us what you know right now," Blaine said seriously, "or we're going to go to Principal Figgins and tell him we suspect that you're withholding important information about what happened that day."
"I don't know anything!" Becky shouted in his face. "Get out of my way!"
She ducked under Blaine's arm and ran away, slamming the door closed behind her with so much force that the clock on the wall beside the door fell to the floor.
Blaine, Sam, and Artie stared after her.
"What are we going to do?" Artie wondered.
Blaine straightened up and rubbed the back of his neck. "She's scared," he surmised. "But she knows something. Maybe... we should tell Principal Figgins?"
"Tell him what?" Artie asked. "That she's acting weird? She's Coach Sylvester's protégé; of course she's acting weird."
"Then we just have to wait," Blaine realized. "And hope that someone will crack."
BLAINE
"Blaine?" Mr. Schu asked at the start of glee rehearsal the next afternoon. "Do you have a song for us?"
"Yes," Blaine nodded, jumping out of his chair to walk to the piano. He sat down and stared at the black and white keys for a moment.
There were so many things he didn't know about Kurt after so much time apart. There were the little things. What was Kurt's favorite restaurant in New York? What fashion trends were on Kurt's radar lately? What was his favorite song on the radio? And there were the big things. Was Kurt leaning toward performing arts or fashion, or was he still planning to tackle both? Was Blaine still in Kurt's vision of his future?
They had talked about some of those things on the phone over the course of the past week, but it wasn't the same as knowing. It wasn't the same as being there, physically and emotionally, for everything in Kurt's life.
It made Blaine's heart ache to think about how much both he and Kurt had changed since their separation. His confidence about their future – the inevitability of a rekindling of their romance – was still there, but he also knew that there was a chance he was wrong. Maybe the damage was too much to overcome. What if Kurt had changed so much that he didn't want Blaine anymore?
Blaine took a deep breath and began his song.
I would like to visit you for a while
Get away and out of this city
Maybe I shouldn't have called but someone had to be the first to break
We can go sit on your back porch
Relax, talk about anything, it don't matter
I'll be courageous if you can pretend that you've forgiven me
'Cause I don't know you anymore
I don't recognize this place
The picture frames have changed and so has your name
We don't talk much anymore
We keep running from the pain
But what I wouldn't give to see your face again
KURT
That afternoon, Kurt let his mind wander as he strolled down the sidewalk on his way to the train station after his final class. There was still snow on the ground, but Kurt thought he could feel the first hint of springtime in the air. It felt nice. Like a big, warm change was imminent.
He had a lot on his mind.
Burt's appointment was rapidly approaching, and Kurt couldn't settle on any single emotion when he thought about it. He was terrified that they might get bad news. He was hopeful that they might get great news. He was anxious that Burt didn't seem to want to talk about it much any time they talked on the phone.
And then there was Blaine. Kurt was looking forward to seeing him, but he was also nervous because of the looming question of what their relationship was or wasn't. When he saw Blaine again, in person, would he know? How could he possibly know without getting to know Blaine all over again? They had both changed so much. Kurt was no longer the boy from Ohio who was clueless about life in the big city. How was Blaine different? Kurt knew that, deep down inside, Blaine was still Blaine, but it scared him a little to think that Blaine might feel as different about himself now versus when they had broken up as Kurt felt when he thought about himself back then.
Things were different. He was still Kurt and Blaine was still Blaine, but could they ever be Kurt and Blaine again, even if they wanted to be?
Springtime in the city
Always such relief from the winter freeze
The snow is more lonely than cold if you know what I mean
Everyone's got an agenda
Don't stop, keep that chin up, you'll be all right
Can you believe what a year it's been?
Are you still the same?
Has your opinion changed?
'Cause I don't know you anymore
I don't recognize this place
The picture frames have changed and so has your name
We don't talk much anymore
We keep running from these sentences
But what I wouldn't give to see your face again
BLAINE
As Blaine sang, he could feel everyone in the room absorbing his somber mood, but it felt like a release. Everyone knew how much he missed Kurt, but Blaine hadn't talked to anyone about how nervous he was to see Kurt again.
I know I let you down
I've paid the price
I'm still paying for it every day
So maybe I shouldn't have called
Was it too soon to tell?
Oh, what the hell, it doesn't really matter
How do you redefine something that never really had a name?
Has your opinion changed?
'Cause I don't know you anymore
I don't recognize this place
The picture frames have changed and so has your name
We don't talk much anymore
We keep running from the pain
But what I wouldn't give to see your face again
I see your face
I see your face
KURT
On Friday afternoon, Kurt, Rachel, and Santana arrived at the theater where the Ballet Gala was going to take place later that evening and Isabelle was waiting for them. She showed them the rack of outfits they could choose from and sent them into a dressing room to put on their new clothes. Kurt's outfit had already been tailored – he had picked it out the day after Isabelle had asked him to help and had convinced another intern to help him tailor it to his body – so he helped Rachel and Santana make the little changes necessary to make their gowns fit perfectly before getting dressed himself.
Rachel shed a few tears when the three of them finally crowded around a full-length mirror and saw what they looked like in their new outfits.
"I don't know where we'll ever be able to wear these again," Santana commented, "but damn."
"Look," Kurt said seriously as they prepared to return to the theater and get to work, "this is going to be fun, but it's also my job. So please, please work hard and be nice."
He held Santana's gaze a little longer than Rachel's.
Isabelle was delighted when she saw the three of them. "Oh, you guys look fabulous!" she gushed, motioning with her hand for each of them to spin around so she could see their outfits. "Those are dresses, and a suit, worthy of the New York City Ballet Gala, for sure."
Kurt was so excited and nervous that he could only nod and bounce a little on the balls of his feet.
"Okay," Isabelle said as they hurried down the aisle of the theater toward the stage, "you're on Rex Reed duty, Kurt. Keep him away from the open bar."
"Gotcha," Kurt understood.
"Hey Santana?" Isabelle asked as they reached the stage. "How do you feel about Cherry Jones?"
"Whatevs," Santana shrugged.
"Miss Isabelle?" Rachel asked, her voice tinted with nerves and excitement as she and Kurt hurried up onto the stage after Isabelle, "I'm sorry, I know that we're just volunteers here but Kurt and I were wondering if there was any possibility that we could maybe watch the performance from the audience?"
Kurt tried to subtly glare at her as she spoke to shut her up. They were working at the gala, not invited as guests. Their private conversation as they had gotten dressed about what if they were allowed to watch the performance had just been a fantasy.
"Absolutely not!" Isabelle scolded, and Kurt dropped his gaze to the floor.
"I'm sorry," Rachel backtracked immediately.
"You're gonna be watching from the wings with me!" Isabelle corrected, smiling broadly.
Kurt could not believe his good fortune. He and Rachel glanced at each other, trying not to freak out too visibly, as Isabelle added, "It's the best seat in the house. Santana, you want to join us?"
"Oh, Santana doesn't like the ballet," Kurt explained. "She's only here for the gown and the swag bag."
"Oh, I don't believe that," Isabelle disagreed. "Every little girl, no matter where she ends up – even at Vogue dot com – starts out wanting to be a ballerina."
"Not Santana," Rachel commented. "We've discussed it." She grabbed Kurt and started to drag him away. "Kurt, can I just show you –?"
"Shut up, Berry," Santana snapped quietly as they passed. Kurt and Rachel paused and looked back at Santana and Isabelle as Santana turned to the Vogue dot com editor and confessed, "I actually did take ballet classes."
Rachel glanced at Kurt. He shrugged.
"My abuela put me in them when I was little because I was such a tomboy and it really pissed my dad off," Santana elaborated. "I only took a few lessons, but it helped me escape a little, you know? It was the first time I danced. I felt safe there and not different. A part of something beautiful."
Rachel smiled at Kurt, and he was impressed that Santana was opening up. Isabelle had a knack for making people feel at ease.
"Well," Isabelle smiled, "come here..."
She arranged Kurt, Rachel, and Santana in a line across the front of the stage.
"Sometimes," she smiled as she finished the line by taking her place beside Santana, "I think people forget to dream big. To remember the freedom of imagination that they had when they were little. So," she motioned out toward the empty seats, "take a moment and let yourself just imagine."
They stood in silence for a moment, each contemplating their past experiences with ballet and performing in general, until Santana snapped out of it.
"Sorry," Santana said, breaking out of her fantasy. She turned to Isabelle as Kurt and Rachel walked over. "Listen, I really love dancing. I just– I'm not like you guys. I don't know what I want to do or how I'm even going to get there."
"But you have plenty of time to figure it out," Isabelle encouraged, reaching out to briefly squeeze one of Santana's hands as Rachel leaned against Kurt and he put his arm around her. "And it doesn't have to be ballet or Broadway. Just as long as it's something that you love. Something that feeds your soul. And, Santana, baby steps are okay."
Santana turned to look at Kurt and Rachel before focusing back on Isabelle.
"Thank you," she said, the words loaded with emotion.
"You're very welcome," Isabelle smiled. "Now... let's get to work!"
BLAINE
Electricity was finally restored at McKinley on Friday afternoon. Everything seemed bright and cheerful as New Directions gathered in the auditorium for the final rehearsal of the week.
"Okay," Jake said once everyone was settled, "let's flip some switches and rock out, please!"
"Woah, woah," Mr. Schu stopped them as they all started to stand up. "Hold on, guys. Don't plug back in just yet. There's one more thing this power outage can really drive home for us. The power of singing a cappella."
"I hate whistling," Kitty whined as Blaine thought about his time as a Warbler.
"Nothing but our voices for this next number," Mr. Schu suggested. "No other instruments or bottles or tools or anything. At the end of the day, our voices are the only instruments that truly matter. So, make it count."
Everyone turned to look at Blaine.
"Okay," he laughed, "it's not really as hard as you think. Come on..."
The Longest Time was a song they had already been working on, with instrumental background music, so they already knew the choreography and the lead vocals. All it took was a little encouragement from Blaine and Mr. Schu, and the group was dancing and singing around the stage without any instruments by the end of rehearsal.
Blaine was still whistling the tune as he grabbed a few things out of his locker and prepared to head home.
As he turned the corner toward the exit to the parking lot, he was confronted with Principal Figgins clearing things out of someone's locker.
"Principal Figgins," Blaine greeted him, walking over to the administrator, "what's going on? Is this..." he glanced at the decorations on the inside of the locker door "... Becky's locker?"
"Miss Jackson has come forward with information about the frightening incident of a few weeks ago," the principal informed him, "and has been suspended."
Surprise flooded through Blaine.
"Is she... coming back?" he wondered.
"That is to be determined," Principal Figgins told him, "and is none of your concern, young student."
Blaine nodded and continued walking, pushing the door open to the parking lot and scanning the area to see if Sam was still around.
Sam's car wasn't there, so Blaine pulled out his phone to call him and tell him that their mission was over.
KURT
When Kurt, Rachel, and Santana finally made it home on Friday night, Kurt was so exhausted that he could barely remember how to brush his teeth and do his moisturizing routine. So, he waited until Saturday to call Blaine.
"It was crazy," he explained after telling Blaine most of the details of the busy night. "Running all over the place in this sea of rich people, making sure everything was running smoothly and that everyone was happy."
"You're so good at that kind of thing," Blaine complimented.
"Thanks," Kurt grinned. "It felt good. And Isabelle was pleased, so that's probably the most important part."
"I still can't believe you know Isabelle Wright," Blaine remarked.
"I promise," Kurt said, "the next time you come to New York, I'll introduce you."
Blaine hummed his approval, and Kurt thought about the first time he had told Isabelle about Blaine. It felt like a different life. When he had shown his mentor a photo of him and Blaine, his boyfriend.
"Oh, and guess what?" Blaine changed the subject. "Becky Jackson confessed that she was the one who brought the gun to school, not Coach Sue."
"What?" Kurt gasped. "Becky?"
"I know," Blaine agreed.
"So, is Sue getting her job back?" Kurt wondered.
"It's unclear," Blaine explained. "I mean, she did lie about what happened. So, for now, I think we're stuck with Roz Washington."
"Good luck with that," Kurt teased.
Blaine groaned in frustration and a brief silence passed between them.
"So..." Blaine said casually, "are you still... do you still want to see me next week?"
"Of course I do!" Kurt scolded gently.
"Good," Blaine replied happily, and Kurt's stomach flipped as the reality of seeing Blaine again set in. "Just make sure you're not wearing anything too metallic when you come to McKinley to see everyone... there are metal detectors now."
The song is "I Don't Know You Anymore" by Savage Garden. "I'll be courageous if you can pretend that you've forgiven me" COME ON. I liked it for this episode because it's just a piano accompaniment. Fits the "unplugged" theme. And I think the whole concept of Kurt and Blaine having changed since the start of the season is really interesting. They're still Kurt and Blaine, but they've been separated for at least five months at this point, so they'll definitely have some rediscovering to do once they inevitably get back together. :)
Up next... 4x21: Wonder-ful!