A/N: I'm intending to put an OC guide at the bottom of chapters sometime soon, because I know keeping OCs straight isn't always easy. This is a busy few weeks, though, so not sure when it will happen. Please blame busy times for any messiness in this update. Thanks.

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I never was smart with love
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It's not a new feeling for him, feeling kind of ignored.

It's just one of those facts of his life. People look at him and think first of his limitations, of the things he can't do. They literally look down at him all the time, which, he thinks, becomes more of a metaphor as time goes on. He really, truly, believes that people don't take him seriously because of his condition.

And romance? Forget about it. No one likes to think about disabled people having sex. It turns most people's stomachs.

So even though he and Blaine led a song for Sectionals (which they'd killed, and Artie hadn't even been sure he'd be able to handle that kind of Freddie Mercury shriek), and even though he's sort of dated four girls (sort of is definitely the emphasis here), he just feels…forgotten.

He doesn't even know why he's been dwelling on this so much lately. It's usually not something he thinks much about, because it's just part of his routine life now. He thinks, though, that it has to do with watching Quinn walk and dance again, combined with Sugar teasing but never taking him seriously as someone who could be her boyfriend, combined with Mr. Schuester not seeming to take him seriously as a potential leading man again.

Blaine's become a decent friend. They have compatible voices, they both like—but don't love—football, they even both like superheroes, though, Blaine's not like Sam in that respect. Sam and Artie can talk actual comic books (though Sam really hasn't read anything recent, he just says he read a ton of comics as a kid because they were recommended to help him with his dyslexia), but Blaine just likes superhero movies, he's never read comics. They've hung out more since the summer, usually going to see a movie or something, and Blaine has a tendency to be overly-courteous about Artie's chair—asking him repeatedly if he's sure he wants to be pushed, whereas most people just kind of did it, fussing about his placement in the theatre so that he can sit in the aisle but still see well, etc. Which is fine, Artie guesses. He likes Blaine. It's almost impossible not to like someone that genuine and friendly.

Sam is a decent friend, too, though he always seems to be busy. They don't hang out as much, but they play games together on Xbox Live sometimes—Sam's a pretty casual gamer, but since Finn left the system at his house, he's started to get pretty good. Sam's also the only person he can talk with about Game of Thrones, which is great. And, of course, sometimes they banter in the weight room together, and Sam's always kind enough to spot him. Otherwise, they usually only spend time together in person if Sam needs some help with school. Artie doesn't tutor him in quite the same way that he and Tina tutor Brittany—that's all about finding new and creative ways to help her relate to complex topics and a lot of word repetition so she doesn't get them confused (though, Artie realizes, that part is somewhat similar to what Sam struggles with…). With Sam it's usually checking over essays, or tackling specific questions if Sam isn't sure he understands what he's reading, or quizzing him on vocabulary, or sometimes a focused math session where they make sure he grasps what different mathematical symbols represent. Sam has had help with his dyslexia since childhood, when he was held back a year and subsequently diagnosed, so he is pretty good at deciding when he needs some extra help and when he doesn't, and Artie's always glad to oblige.

But Blaine is endlessly optimistic. Kind of scarily cheerful. It balances out Artie's sort of natural propensity for pessimism, but it also means that if he confides in Blaine, he already knows exactly the kind of advice he'll get—things get better, focus on the good, etc. And he and Sam haven't ventured into the kind of friendship where they confide in each other yet. Artie doesn't want to be the first to bring up serious shit, even if it's mostly him just kind of feeling sorry for himself.

There's really only one guy he thinks he can confide in about this kind of thing, and he's been sort of incognito for awhile.

Artie-A: Dude, want to hang out sometime?

Puck: sure dude come on over im off today

Puck had just gotten a job at a restaurant that week, which Artie had seen on Facebook. He's glad, because the hours Puck was racking up on Xbox Live were starting to worry him.

He gets his mom to take him to Puck's (which is just another thing; sometimes it's frustrating having to rely on other people to go anywhere, when everyone else his age drives. Maybe someday, he'll get a car modified for him, but it's just not in the cards for him right now). Puck answers the door after Artie's text (because of Puck's porch, he can't reach the doorbell), in mesh shorts and a beater, his face stubbly. He smiles a greeting, and steps to the side of the porch to grab the ramp he'd eventually fashioned so that Artie can get into the house. That's a nice gesture, and Artie appreciates being able to get into the house on his own, especially since he knows getting to Puck's room is more awkward.

Even though there's a TV in Puck's living room, the Xbox is up in his room. Once, Puck had hooked it up to the living room TV when Artie had visited, but his sister had thrown a fit about missing her favorite show and it had just gotten messy. Artie, sensing Puck's frustration, had just said maybe they should play upstairs next time, and that's been their plan since.

"Up we go," Puck says with a smile, leaning down to pick Artie up. Artie wraps his arms around Puck's neck as the tall young man lifts him easily and carries him, bridal style, up the stairs. Which, while he knows there's really no other way to do it, is kinda humiliating. He hopes Puck's sister or mother don't see. He wonders if he'll ever get used to these kinds of limitations and sometimes wishes he doesn't remember what it was like to walk. In general, he can go through life more or less forgetting he's in a wheelchair, because so much of it is routine now, but then things like this happen, and he's frustrated with his legs all over again. It's this reason, though, that he doesn't often come to Puck's, and for whatever reason, Puck has been reluctant to come to his house since the beginning of the school year, so unfortunately, they haven't hung out as much as Artie might like. He kind of assumes that Puck has been a bit depressed—the fact that he doesn't seem to have showered yet today, judging by the light odor of his skin, just reinforces that theory.

Puck settles Artie onto the armchair in his room and asks if he wants anything to eat or drink, and comes back a few minutes later with Artie's chair, a couple of cans of Mountain Dew, and a bag of Doritos. He flips on the Xbox and settles onto his bed, tossing Artie a controller.

"What're we playing?" Artie asks.

Puck snorts, "Not Skyrim," he teases, and Artie grins. Clearly, Puck has seen what game Artie's been putting hours into lately. "Bioshock."

"Cool," Artie agrees.

They play for awhile, the only conversation necessary to the game. The ambiance of the game is really tense, anxious, and it helps to have all senses on high alert. Eventually, they reach a part that's a little bit low-key, a kind of puzzle that's in a safe-ish area, and Artie is ready to talk.

"I know I've asked you this before, but how do you do it? Get all those ladies?"

Puck chuckles and glances at him, "Dude? Way to kick a guy when he's down. I've only been with like, six chicks since, like, Ms. Corcoran. Dry spell, bro."

"Oh," Artie says quietly, then after a pause, "Me too."

"Yeah, well," Puck shrugs, "Guess I haven't really been trying. Too much else on my mind. What about you? Been trying?"

"See, that's the thing," Artie admits, "I don't know how to try. With Tina, it was just so natural. Brittany? Woman came right up to me out of nowhere. I guess I tried with Sugar, but you saw how that turned out."

Puck laughs a little again, "Never really saw the appeal there. But actually, that brings up a good point. You're aiming too low."

"Uh," Artie fumbles, accidentally shooting at nothing in the game, "What?"

Puck rolls his eyes without looking away from the screen, "Look, you get as much ass as me, you'll find out, chicks dig confident. They dig macho. Well, most anyways. And, well, sure you may never look like me," he flexes his upper arms and shoulders for emphasis, which looks awkward with the way he's sprawled out right now, "But you can act like me. Not like, just like me, cause, no offense, but you're not badass in the same way. But you've gotta put on a front that says you've got a dick that girls should want to jump on."

Artie's a little bit open-mouthed at this, "I don't understand. I mean, I can't change who I am."

"Sure, and don't, because I know you, and you want more than a hookup. But dude, be confident. And start by changing the types of bitches you go after."

"What's wrong with the chicks I dig?"

Puck laughs abruptly, "Okay, seriously? Let's see. You went after Tina because you thought she was, like, disabled, too, or whatever. You'd have never spoken to her if you'd known that stutter was fake, and you know it, 'cause you told me. Brittany, like, no offense, she's a sweet girl, but not all that bright, so you had that over her. Sugar has the people skills of an AR-15. Becky, I mean, obviously. And you only even spoke to Quinn when she was crippled."

Artie winces at his assessment, then snaps, "Look, okay, I know I'm not perfect, so there's no reason for me to ask a chick to look past what I have to offer if I don't do the same for her."

"That's the thing, bro," Puck explains, "If a girl really likes you, she isn't looking past anything. You've gotta aim higher. I'm not saying you didn't actually like any of these girls, and I mean, they're pretty much all great girls, but like…you can go for someone who's not, like…disabled. Because that's how you saw each of them."

Artie spins his character around to fire a few rounds into Puck's character's head, but there's no friendly fire, so nothing really happens. Puck just laughs a little.

A few days later, he's tutoring Brittany in the library during lunch. He eats a sandwich while he quizzes her on biology terminology, which she's started to get down—she's pretty much a natural with biology, although it helps when he can relate the topic to animals somehow.

After walking—ha!—her through an explanation of the function of the endoplasmic reticulum (she remembers it by likening a cell to a beehive, and the smooth endoplasmic reticulum stores honey and the rough creates royal jelly, and because she knows honey is antiseptic, she thinks "ER" to make the connection), he says, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure," Brittany nods, leaning back and picking up her chocolate pudding, "Will it be on the test?"

"No, it's different. Do you think I, uh, only go for women that I pity?" Brittany's brow furrows, so he says, "I mean, I only went for Tina because I thought she stuttered, and I only talked to Quinn when she was in a wheelchair, too. Of course, even then she was way out of my league, and I wasn't even really trying anything romantic."

"You didn't pity me," Brittany points out, her gaze trusting.

"Er," Artie fumbles a moment, "No, I guess you're right," he half-lies, because he didn't really pity her, but he did get frustrated with how slow she could be. Which is, well, she's been making so much decent progress with school, he's actually pleasantly surprised.

Brittany nods, "You thought I was dumb sometimes, but that's not the same."

Artie decides to just ignore that, because, Jesus, how can she just nonchalantly bring up the thing that completely broke them apart not that long ago? "But do you? Think that about me, I mean?"

Brittany seems to deliberate this, "When you say it like that, maybe. I don't think that's right. You should be with someone because you like them."

"I agree," Artie says quickly, "I just…I don't really know how to approach someone…normal. For lack of a better word."

Brittany tilts her head, "Who's this normal girl you want to approach?"

Artie feels his throat dry out a little, because, now faced with the question, he has to admit that there is someone he's kind of been into, someone he hasn't been able to help bringing up whenever possible, whenever he's had a chance to be like, you know, there are more girls in A/V club now. But he just hasn't even let himself think of the possibility, because she just is so normal.

"Annette," he admits, very quietly. She's…she's smart. She's in A/V club with him, has talked to him a few times about joining the Brainiacs. She's nice. Friendly, but just aloof enough that she's not overpoweringly chipper or anything. And she's pretty. Black hair—literally black, he doesn't think he's ever seen hair this dark on a white girl—brown eyes.

He describes her thusly to Brittany, who smiles at him a little, "Just do like I did to you."

Artie chokes a little, "Brittany, you just came up to me and told me you wanted to date me." When Brittany just looks confused, he says, "I can't do that. I mean, you could do that because you were like, attractive and popular," he lets out in a rush, blushing a little, "I'm me."

Brittany furrows her brow, "Well, if she can't see how cool you are, she shouldn't date you. Just tell her."

Artie can't come up with anything to say to that, and even though he's pretty certain Brittany's idea is insane, it's been planted nonetheless.

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We're so close to something better left unknown
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It's really fucking difficult to leave Lima, which is actually kind of shocking, because, Jesus, she couldn't wait to leave this place, but it means leaving Brittany again, and that hurts.

Even though she kisses her and smiles and tells her she'll see her in a month. And they've done three months, they can do this.

Kurt is similarly sulky when she comes by in the morning on Sunday to pick him up. They'd waited pretty much until the last possible minute to go home, but Santana works that night, so she's hoping they get home by 8:30 so she can shower, eat dinner and go, which means getting on the road by about 10 at the latest. She stands on the porch a little sullenly with Blaine while Kurt runs back inside to get something he forgot.

Blaine turns to give her a half-hearted smile, "You did the right thing, you know."

She slightly raises an eyebrow in return, not particularly interested in his cryptic statement. "What?" She kind of expects it might be about Rachel.

"When you opted out of your family's Thanksgiving. I know it had to have been awful, but going on the offensive against your grandmother wouldn't have helped. The only leverage you have is your presence in her life, you have to tell her, you need to accept me or I won't be a part of your life."

Her eyes feel hot and she's biting her lip, and she growls furiously, "She doesn't want me in her life, Closet-Fro. I'm not staying out of it in hopes that she'll invite me back in, I'm staying out of it because trying to be part of my family is too fucking painful. Got it? I didn't do it for me or any hopes that she'll accept me. I did it for her, because she doesn't want me. And I'll never change that by avoiding or confronting her."

Blaine's eyes are wide and his hands are held in front of him in surrender. Santana steps back, having barely realized she'd advanced on him, "Okay. Sorry."

She sighs and rubs at her face and mutters, "yeah." She wonders how the hell everyone knows what had happened to her; Quinn and Rachel had been completely unsurprised when she'd told them she'd spent Thanksgiving with Brittany, she knew they knew. She figures whoever told everyone else meant well, and reminds herself that these are all people who care about her and are in her life for just that reason, and the fact that they know her business is meant to be so that they can watch out for her. It only helps a little, but by the time Kurt bounds back out onto the porch, she can force a half-smile at him.

Kurt and Blaine share a long hug and several kisses before Blaine is waving them away. Kurt sits in the passenger seat with a heavy sigh and immediately turns on some Madonna because, as he says, "I need something upbeat right now."

It works. They're practically shouting the lyrics to "Like a Prayer" as they pull up in front of Rachel's house, where Rachel and Quinn are waiting for them (Quinn had decided it would be cheaper and a lot more fun if she drove back to New York with them and then took a train to New Haven from there). It actually works so well that she and Kurt get out of the car and start dancing in the Berrys's front yard, the music still playing from the car doors they've left hanging open. Rachel opens the front door and her mouth drops open a little as she watches, but then she's leaving her door hanging open, her luggage on the porch, and is grabbing Quinn's hand to drag her into the impromptu dance party. Quinn's laughing and twirls Rachel, and the two curious Berry fathers appear on the doorstep next, Hiram smiling and clasping his hands together at the sight, and Leroy clapping excitedly and singing along.

By the time the song ends, Santana is hugging Kurt, and they share a moment of sympathy for leaving behind those they love, before Rachel and Quinn turn it into a group hug, and then they're laughing, and excited for their road trip.

Santana does a decent amount of the driving this time, because she's not any more sleep deprived than anyone else and because it is her car, after all. And even though the trip feels so much longer since she's awake through all of it, it's still fun. They get lunch at a Sheetz again, they sing along to a lot of different music, plugging and unplugging iPods and iPhones repeatedly. It helps that Rachel and Quinn aren't blatantly sad about leaving, too. Rachel'd blinked away a few tears when she hugged her fathers goodbye, but as soon as she'd gotten into the car, she seemed fine. Santana is glad that whatever happened with Finn, she doesn't seem to be dwelling on it.

They do make it home by about 8:30, so Santana pretty much hugs Quinn goodbye and runs into the apartment to get ready for work. Rachel insists on accompanying Quinn to Grand Central, which makes Quinn roll her eyes and insist she knows how to get there herself, but she smiles.

The trouble is, Santana is already exhausted from her sleep schedule getting so screwed up all weekend, and also just because travel is tiring in general, but she took off four days for this trip, which is like two more than she can afford. She needs to get back to work.

When she comes into work, Helen is there. She gives Santana a rare smile and tilts her chin up in greeting, and Santana is relieved she's there, but…

Halfway through the shift she's realized she's being incredibly distant with Helen, and she tells herself she's just tired. Which is true, but…

That damn conversation with Brittany keeps ringing in her head.

Brittany had pretty much told her she could make out with Helen if she wanted.

Does she want to?

Now that it's been forced into the forefront of her mind, she can't help but admit there's a bit of a spark there. Since the moment they met, they had an easy camaraderie and a, let's face it, obvious fascination with each other.

Which is weird, because Helen's just about the opposite of Brittany—snarky, stoic, brunette, hell, the only thing they have in common is that they're about the same height…

She can't get these possibilities out of her head, and it just feels like a trap somehow, this permission of Brittany's. It's insane.

She gets home even more exhausted than normal and with a headache, and sleeps late, so that it's dark when she wakes up, which never helps her mood. When she exits the bedroom, she can smells a sort of chemical odor, and wrinkles her nose, working as fast as she can to overpower the smell with the scent of brewing coffee. However, Kurt's excited voice gets the best of her, and she stands on the edge of the kitchen to see him sitting on the couch, speaking excitedly to his computer.

"Hey, Santana!" he greets excitedly, standing up and twirling. "You like?"

Her eyebrows rise. He's put some very blond, almost white-blond, highlights in his hair, and somehow looks a lot gayer than normal. She smiles a little, "Looks pretty gay, Homommel."

He pretends to pout, "Well, at least Blaine was nicer about it," he gestures to his computer, and picks it up to face her so that she can see Blaine taking up his Skype screen, and his smile turns a bit nervous when faced with her. "Say hey to Blaine!"

Santana jerks her head up in a nod, "Hey, Warbles."

Blaine laughs at this, "I guess I'll never escape that once a Warbler, always a Warbler thing, huh?"

Santana folds her arms, "God, does it ever get exhausting being that fucking cheerful?"

Blaine chuckles again, but his expression is uncertain. Santana huffs and waves him away while she turns back into the kitchen to get working on her breakfast. She hears Kurt reassure him gently, "You know that's how Santana shows her affection."

"I show affection to no one!" Santana shouts, but she's smiling a little now, and by the genuine laughter Blaine and Kurt share, she can tell they know she's smiling, and that Blaine has relaxed again.

It's when she heads to work that night that things feel a little different.

Helen's there, again, and her greeting is a lot cooler than it had been yesterday, and guilt pierces Santana's gut again. She realizes she's being hot and cold with the girl, but she just doesn't know what she's supposed to do right now. Now that the…possibility has been opened up, damned if she doesn't feel just fucking lost. She has no idea what she wants.

But then, as they're heading toward the fresh food section, Santana spots something she doesn't think she's ever seen in the store overnight—a blonde girl.

Her steps almost falter when the girl turns to look at them both, smiles, and lifts a hand in greeting to Helen, who returns it. She doesn't miss the fact that the girl is wearing a hemp necklace with a rainbow charm hanging from it.

"Who is that?" Santana asks, undeniably curious.

"Oh. Angela. She works mornings usually, but during Christmas, they make a team overnight to work in toys and electronics, since those are so heavy." Helen sounds mostly nonchalant.

"Oh. Is she like us?" Santana mumbles vaguely, embarrassed as the words come out of her mouth that she can't even bring herself to say it. Even now, the words feel taboo here. Unsafe.

"Yeah," Helen chuckles, "She's pretty open about it. When we worked on planograms together, there were rumors about us, of course."

Santana smirks, "Any of them true?"

Helen chuckles a little, "No, she's really not my type."

"I thought you didn't have a type?" asks Santana, because that had been the conclusion they both had drawn when they'd discussed it, what, a month or two ago?

Helen shrugs a little bit uncomfortably, "Ah, well, I mean, I don't, but I have an anti-type, and a dating history. I'm not attracted to blondes, and I've really never dated anyone white. Not because I wouldn't, just…hasn't worked out that way."

Warning bells are clanging like a fucking firehouse in Santana's head, as Helen kind of gazes away from them as they walk, and what was that? Santana, first of all, can't really fathom not being attracted to blondes, but then, she figures, Helen has never seen Brittany, shit, Helen doesn't even know Brittany exists, and…Helen has only dated women of color? This is an admission of…something.

It's at this moment that she realizes where she stands on the issues of her and Helen. It had been muddled from the start, with her being kind of attracted to her, enjoying their intellectual connection, her not knowing the lines of friendship, her maybe, perhaps, being flattered by the possibility of other girl's attraction. She never considered it could go beyond that, that even though, sure, Helen's cute, and funny, and probably has the longest tongue Santana has ever seen (she frequently sticks it out to trace the edge of her iced coffee lid to lick up coffee that spills out when she sticks in the straw, and Santana always watches), she just can't do this with her. It would be…kind of like what she did to Sam. Using her by drawing her into something where she might get hurt, because, under these circumstances, Santana can't return the feelings Helen maybe has. Under different circumstances, maybe, but that just makes this all the worse of an idea.

And even though, Jesus, she was just fucked about sixteen different times by Brittany over the weekend, she doesn't even want anybody else right now, it's disappointing to know that she can't get her mack on with Helen if she has an itch she needs to scratch.

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I only wish my words could convince myself that it just wasn't real
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After Thanksgiving, there's not too much left of the semester, but what's left is crazy.

Rachel is frequently exhausted anyway, from working two part-time jobs while attempting to complete 15 credit-hours, and from being involved in both plays. Luckily, the one in which she basically just has her one duet is pretty easy, but it's set to go on the week before Finals Week, so it's getting manic. Yet somehow, the modern re-telling of the Theseus and the Minotaur myth is more time-consuming, even though it doesn't go on until January.

It helps that her social life is pretty limited to her roommates and Quinn, as well as texts, Facebook or calls with former Glee club teammates. That's fairly sporadic, though, even with Mercedes. The person who probably texts the most besides Quinn is Puck. They have the weirdest inside joke/ritual in which he will text "wat r u wearing" and she will describe, in benign and casual terms that under no circumstances include discussion of her undergarments, her chosen outfit for the day. He'll tell her something like "sounds hot" or "good choice" and then, prompted by her, will describe his own outfit (graphically) before telling her to have a good day. It's nice, to feel like he's checking up on her, even if he disguises it behind his ridiculous perverse persona.

She's made sure to mention school friends several times, however, mostly to Santana, because she worries school-anything is still a taboo subject with Kurt, but it's mostly so Santana won't worry. But "friends" might be slightly too strong a word for her relationships with these people.

She feels like she was inexorably changed by her relationship with Jesse St. James. He had been so much like her—driven, talented, arrogant (not that she'd call herself arrogant; she thinks she is more confident). And even though she'd been sure there was a spark there, and every time she'd seen him after they broke up, she'd felt it jolt in her chest like jumper cables, he'd still decided to dump her—in an unnecessarily humiliating way, she still thought—for what he perceived as his chance for a good future. She can't really fault him for following his dreams, but the eggs, the deception…she can fault him for that.

And she has no other way to see her classmates but as a mixture of him and Harmony, both people who fill her with more trepidation than affection.

She isn't good at trusting anymore, she thinks. Despite loving him deeply, she doesn't even fully trust Kurt anymore because of all the stupid fights they've had over the years, and while she probably trusts Santana and Quinn more than anyone except, perhaps, her fathers, she has to admit there's still a tiny part of her that just thinks that one day, they'll decide she's a loser again. She trusts them more than she rationally should, and she knows that. Those two stretch her trust to its limit, and she just doesn't have any extra to extend to her classmates.

So they're more acquaintances than anything else. She'll meet them at coffee shops or the library to study, sometimes she'll practice her singing with a few of them, but mostly, she meets them in school-related contexts. Occasionally, she's met them for social calls, little on-campus gatherings and the like, but if she's honest, she really doesn't have time for that.

There is one guy, though, that…as cliché as it sounds, he just doesn't seem like everyone else in the program. He's confident and talented, sure, but he's also humble, and genuinely kind, and easygoing. In spite of her trepidation, she likes him. She wants to befriend Jeremy.

He plays the lead role in Theo and the Minotaur, and she is a secondary role (Phaedra, or Faye, the sister of Jeremy's character's love interest Ariadne, or Ari, who is, incidentally, played by this dismissive bitch named Gretchen who irritates Rachel, and luckily their characters tend to clash, so that comes out easily onstage). Because of this, Jeremy and Rachel don't have too many scenes together, but when they do work together, they play off of each other effortlessly. The director, a senior student who is pretty laissez-faire about his process, encourages them to critique each others' work after every scene before he himself offers any, and Jeremy usually squeezes her shoulder and tells her, "No complaints, short stop." Which, she'd wanted to glare at him at first for the nickname, but she had to admit his compliment made her feel very warm, because she's seen Jeremy make gentle suggestions to almost everyone else (she loves it when he gives advice to Gretchen, who always struggles to mask her annoyance. And it does surprise her, because the chemistry between Gretchen and Jeremy looks natural and effortless to her).

When Neal, the petite guy playing Icarus, or Ike, blatantly flirts with Jeremy one day, Jeremy squeezes his shoulder and smiles in his easygoing, friendly way and says, "I'm flattered, but I'm straight." And…Rachel loves that. She loves how easily he lets Neal down, and she actually loves that she's in an environment in which guys have to come out as straight. It's such a bizarro world type of place in that way, and it makes Rachel really happy to surrounded by people who just take homosexuality as a given, and who aren't offended if they're assumed to be gay. It makes her wish, fervently, that Kurt could be here, too.

It's also good that the rest of her semester is so busy because, against her will, she is dwelling on Finn.

God, she doesn't want to be, but it's like every time she has a moment alone, his face pops up in her mind, and "Beast of Burden" has gotten stuck in her head more times than she'd like to admit. And whenever she comes home, it's like her palms itch to check their mailbox, but she refuses. She has no idea how many letters have come, because she refuses to let herself get pathetic enough to beg Santana and Kurt to tell her; besides which, she knows they won't.

But she fantasizes about the day that they forget to check the mail, and she gets there first, and she can read the letter from him, telling her how much he loves her, about how he tells his unit about her and how he's going to marry her someday all the time, about how he looks at her Senior year portrait every night before bed, about how he's doing this for her, so she'll be proud of him, so he can stand beside her.

But at the same time…she tries so hard to remind herself of why she craves these words from him: because they had been so rare, and, when she thinks about it, had usually only been employed when he wanted something from her, usually forgiveness. She remembers Quinn talking about how Finn had, as far as she knew, completely unprompted, told her she had been beautiful as Lucy. How she'd seen Finn's baby blanket once, and he had told her about how he'd given it to Quinn to give to who he had thought would be their baby when she was born (Quinn had evidently left it on Finn's bed when he'd kicked her out of his house). And when she compares these gestures with the things he did for her—a pig slaughtered in her honor, a star named after him—she feels…cheated somehow.

She had always envied Quinn and Finn's relationship, the way they had strutted the halls like teenage royalty, and even though she's heard from Quinn that it had been mostly appearances, that she hadn't even really loved Finn… (but, she thinks, that doesn't seem quite possible, Quinn had fought for him with passion, and of course, Finn had loved Quinn, because how couldn't he…) her relationship with Finn had never felt like that, because of how often he'd felt like he needed to dismiss her for his popularity, how he'd never been able to bring her up to his level, had never even really tried…it had really only felt like that once, when they'd brought home the Nationals win, and she had earned that place in teenage royalty herself, at that point.

She figures she must be a masochist; there's no other way to explain the desperate way she pursued Quinn Fabray's friendship for the past several years, and this desperation for validation from an ex-boyfriend she knows, logically, she needs to leave behind, just adds more proof.

One Tuesday, Rachel comes home to find Santana watching TV in her sweats; must not be a work night, she realizes. Santana smiles a greeting and Rachel microwaves some rice and frozen vegetables for her dinner. Settling next to Santana, who's apparently watching Bad Girls Club completely unironically, eyes pretty much glued to the screen, she hears the other girl mumble, "Damn, when is Kurt getting home, he'd love this episode."

Rachel is at first surprised that the two of them apparently watch really trashy TV together, but then realizes that she doesn't witness most of their friendship. She's realized how strange Kurt's sleep schedule is; he appears to not necessarily sleep when he is tired, but to approach sleep from a mathematical standpoint, and make up for sleep lost when he stays up late by sleeping more later in the week. And often, when Santana is off work, Rachel will come out of the bedroom to use the bathroom at two or three in the morning to find Kurt still awake with her, watching something ludicrous on TV, or beating the hell out of each other in Super Smash Brothers.

Checking the time on her phone, Rachel frowns, "He should be home soon."

Not two minutes later, Kurt comes in, closing the door quickly behind him and leaning against it, looking sick and pale.

"'Bout time, come watch this—" Santana starts, but then stops immediately on seeing his face.

Rachel shoots up out of her seat, "Are you okay?"

Kurt's throat bobs a few times and he shakes his head slightly. His hair is mussed and his eyes are huge. "Just…street harassment," he reveals quietly.

"What?" This time, Santana shoots out of her seat. "What do you mean? What happened?"

Kurt closes his eyes and laughs humorlessly, "You must've been right about my hair, Santana. Three guys followed me for a block calling me a faggot. And I mean, you guys know I've been bullied and harassed before, but this was legitimately terrifying. This was on the street, there was no one around who cared."

Santana inhales sharply. Rachel winces. She knew, when they were looking at apartments, that this isn't the best neighborhood, but in all honesty, it's not as if they can afford to live wherever they want in the city. Even three people in a two-bedroom apartment in this neighborhood is incredibly expensive. It's why she's always carrying pepper spray and a rape whistle, and why she always appreciates when she and Kurt meet up in the subway station before walking home together some nights. Safety is important here.

"Kurt, why didn't you call me?" she asks, and he just shakes his head.

"I don't know," he admits, "I was just so scared."

"Alright, new rule," Santana announces, folding her arms, "No one walks home alone."

"It's not that easy," Kurt protests.

Santana growls a little, "You guys usually get home just before I leave for work. I have time to meet you before I have to leave. Or, Kurt, go to the NYADA campus and wait for Rachel, or Rachel, go to work to wait for Kurt. Honestly, I know I don't use the public transportation much, but I've had guys watch me that I'm sure would have said something if it were night, and the streets were more deserted. Not to mention, muggers exist."

Rachel ducks her head, "I've had men say inappropriate things a few times," she admits, because she has. A few times a group of men had talked loudly among themselves about what they'd like to do to her, a few other times, men passing her on the street had told her, unprompted, how good she looked, in ways that made her skin crawl.

Santana is half-glaring now, "Why didn't you say something?" she asks, alarmed.

Rachel shrugs helplessly, "It didn't seem like a big deal. It was gross and inappropriate, but I never felt unsafe," she gestures to Kurt, who is still lightly trembling, and she goes over and gives him a hug, which makes him sigh a bit raggedly into her hair.

Santana's not done, though, and she crosses to get next to Rachel, "But you could be unsafe, don't you get that? I mean, I called you a dwarf all those years for a reason—not saying it was a good one, or a nice thing to say, but you're tiny. You both are targets. I mean, so am I, but I'm not out there every day."

Rachel squeezes her eyes shut, not having a good answer, and buries her face into Kurt's shoulder. Santana sighs, mildly frustrated, but then reaches over to join them both in the hug.

And in that moment, a bit of the glitz and glamour of being in New York washes away. She could overlook the price, her intensely talented peers, sharing a room.

But she can't overlook a shaking Kurt and a Santana nearly in tears with worry.

Additional A/N: Chapter titles from Robyn, "Indestructible," Metric, "Gimme Sympathy," Jim Croce, "Operator." Other songs mentioned are Madonna, "Like a Prayer," and Rolling Stones, "Beast of Burden."