"You haven't asked us anything about our New York trip," Mercedes remarked, her spoon swirling through her coffee, creating small ripples in the dark liquid.

Mercedes, Tina, Kurt, and Blaine had gathered at the Lima Bean to catch up, their voices mingling with the soft hum of conversation and the clinking of cups.

"Is it because it's too painful?" Tina inquired, her brow furrowed with concern as she tapped her fingers rhythmically on the table's surface.

Kurt sighed softly, his gaze drifting off for a moment before returning to his friends. "Yes, as a matter of fact," he admitted, his tone tinged with a hint of sadness, "but while the New Directions are preparing to perform at Nationals, the Columbus drama club is gearing up for a performance at a nursing home in a strip mall. But I'm so proud of you guys," he added, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips, appreciating the dedication and talent of his friends.

"We miss you so much."

"Isn't there any way you could come back to McKinley?"

The Warbler nodded solemnly, his hand resting supportively on his boyfriend's shoulder. "I told him, I would be all for it if it wasn't for Karofsky," he explained, his voice tinged with concern. "Kurt needs to be safe."


"Hey, can I come in?"

Shelby turned from her position at the control panel, her eyes lighting up at the sight of Kurt. "Sure, come on in."

Kurt entered with a tentative smile, settling into an armchair positioned strategically to observe his friends on the other side of the glass, deep in the throes of rehearsing their new song for the upcoming album.

"How's it going in there?"

The woman's smile widened, a blend of pride and determination crossing her features. "It's a challenging project, but they're making progress. Still some tweaks to be made, but they're definitely on the right path."

On the other side of the glass, Jayden experimented with different drum rhythms, his concentration palpable as he searched for the perfect beat. Asher plucked at the strings of his bass guitar, his fingers dancing across the frets with practiced ease, while Isaac, lost in his own world, tested out various vocal tones.

"Isaac might not realize it, but he's got more of his mother in him than he knows," Shelby mused, her gaze drifting to a framed photograph resting on the nearby shelf. The picture captured a younger Shelby and Sophia, Isaac's mother, standing side by side in the very studio they now occupied.

"What was she like?"

"Sophia was... she was a force of nature," she began, a fond smile tugging at her lips as she reached for the photograph. "Her parents were staunchly against her artistic pursuits, being doctors themselves, but despite their disapproval, Sophia's talent shone through."

"I discovered her during her junior year, and from the moment she joined Vocal Adrenaline, it was evident that she possessed a truly unique gift. There was a quality to her voice, an intangible something that captivated anyone who heard her. The way she conveyed emotion through her music was... breathtaking."

"Do you miss her?"

"Every I see Isaac perform, or pass by the auditorium... it's like she's still here, in spirit. Sophia may have been quieter than Isaac, but they both share that same passionate fire within them. It's what sets them apart, what makes them truly special."

Kurt nodded in understanding, his gaze drifting back to Isaac as he sang with unwavering determination, lost in the music. "It's like... they're rays of sunshine on the gloomiest of days. They won't rest until they've spread a little joy to everyone around them."

"Isaac may seem like he's this strong, happy-go-lucky guy, and he is, I'm not denying that," Shelby murmured, her gaze fixed thoughtfully on her nephew. Her voice carried a weight of consideration, as if delving into the depths of his character. "But he also has his bad days, you know?"

"Bad days? What do you mean?"

"Haven't you noticed how Isaac always appears eager to lend a helping hand, or how he consistently prioritizes others' needs above his own?" she posed the question, her eyes searching for understanding. When he nodded in affirmation, she continued, "Isaac has abandonment issues. That's why he avoids confrontation whenever possible and tends to adopt a pathological people-pleaser persona. Hannah, bless her heart, has been key in helping him but there are moments when he regresses back to that confused eleven-year-old boy who woke up in the hospital after losing his parents."

"I had no idea."

"That's why we make it a point to foster an environment where expressing emotions is encouraged, where Isaac feels safe to share how he truly feels. His initial months with the Taylors were fraught with tension, to say the least. He never voiced any complaints or objections; he simply accepted everything that came his way. There was this one incident where he accidentally cut his wrist on a piece of glass, and Sabrina didn't discover it until a week later when she noticed the scar."

"He... he self-harms?"

"The wrist incident was purely accidental, and thankfully, it hasn't recurred. But Hannah warned us that situations like these might arise. Losing his parents, experiencing memory loss, and suddenly finding himself thrust into the care of strangers... It's a lot for anyone to bear. There are times when Isaac hears this inner voice telling him he's broken, unworthy of love, that he doesn't belong."

"But... Asher and Gaby treat him like family, they call him brother."

"He suffered bullying, you know?" Shelby's jaw tightened with remembered pain. "It wasn't anything overtly malicious or physical, but there were always hurtful remarks about him being an orphan, insinuations about his mental state due to the memory loss."

"But it wasn't his fault! Memory loss can happen after an accident," he protested, his eyes brimming with tears as he felt a surge of compassion for his friend.

"Children can be remarkably cruel, Kurt. You, more than anyone, understand that. That's why we're all a bit overprotective of him. We want to shield him from as much pain as possible. I know you have your own struggles, but you were the first real friend he found outside of the family circle. While it's inevitable that hurt may come his way at times, if it's within your power, please, don't add to it."


"You can't be in here, Noah," Rachel's frown deepened as she spotted the unexpected visitor in the girls' bathroom.

Puck, unfazed by the admonishment, merely shrugged, leaning casually against the tiled wall. "It's cool. I checked through the peephole I drilled last year to make sure no one was going."

"What can I help you with today?"

"I just want to talk to you, one hot Jew to another," he said, his voice surprisingly earnest. A rare hint of concern flickering across his features as he stepped closer.

The girl's eyes narrowed, a flash of irritation crossing her features. "Oh, God. Look, it's my nose, okay? I'm tired of the lectures," she protested, her frustration bubbling to the surface.

"Hear me out. Why are you getting Quinn's nose? If you want to breathe better, why don't you have him give you Karl Malden's nose? Your nose has been passed down from generation to generation as a birthright. It's a sign of the survival of our people."

"This has nothing to do with our religion."

But Puck wasn't ready to give up just yet. "I need one hour of your time tomorrow. Just one hour. Give me that, and I'll never bug you again," his hands clasped together in a gesture of sincerity.

Rolling her eyes, Rachel relented, her frustration tempered by a begrudging sense of curiosity.

"Only because you'll leave me alone."


"Well, my fellow Glee Clubbers, it's noon, which means…it's official," Mercedes announced, her voice vibrating with happiness as she addressed the entire Glee Club gathered in the sun-drenched courtyard.

"What's official?" Sam piped up, his eyes scanning the group for clues.

Before anyone could respond, a voice rang out, cutting through the chatter. "My transfer! Kurt Hummel's back at McKinley!" Kurt's sudden appearance caused a ripple of excitement and surprise to sweep through the crowd. Instantly, the air was filled with the sounds of joyous exclamations and eager embraces as he was engulfed in a sea of hugs.

"Let me breathe! Let me breathe! Let's get ready for Nationals."

Mercedes, still beaming with delight, gently interrupted the jubilant scene. "Not yet," she said, her tone soft but firm. "See, there's a reason we're meeting here today. There are some people who wanted to say goodbye to you, Kurt."

His gaze shifted, and his eyes widened with surprise as he took in the sight of the courtyard filled with familiar faces. Jayden, Asher, Gabrielle, Claire, and even members of the drama club and friends he had made in Columbus had gathered to bid him farewell. Isaac, stepping forward with a somber expression, spoke up, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness.

"Columbus is gonna miss you, Kurt. You were a great addition to the school. I'm sad to see you go, but we all know this is something you really want. And I'll still have you after school and on the weekends, but some of these guys won't, so they wanted to say goodbye."

Claire's smile was bittersweet as she stepped forward, "And thank you. You're an excellent performer, and I'm sure you'll go far. Don't forget about us when you get to the top, yeah?"

Kurt's heart swelled with gratitude as he embraced each of them in turn, the warmth of their words wrapping around him like a comforting blanket. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "Thank you all for taking me in, for accepting me as I am. I'll never forget any of you."


"Hey, Lucy."

Quinn froze in her tracks, her heart pounding with surprise and nervousness, as she turned to face Lauren, uncertainty flickering in her green eyes. "What did you just call me?"

"Well, that certainly got your attention. Can we speak privately?"

The cheerleader hesitated for a moment before nodding silently and following the other girl towards an empty classroom nearby. Once the door closed behind them, Lauren wasted no time getting to the point. "Well, you may want to have a seat," she began, her voice carrying a hint of seriousness. "My dad's college roommate was G. Gordon Liddy…and he taught my pop a valuable moved to Lima after eighth grade, right?"

"I transferred from Fairbrook. That's not a secret."

"Well, you must have had a pretty lousy attendance record because I called Fairbrook Middle School, and they didn't have a record of anyone named Fabray. Which makes sense, as you actually lived in an unincorporated part of Fairbrook Township, meaning you would have gone to Belleville Middle School, not Fairbrook. So, I took a little field trip."

Quinn's facade faltered, a flicker of panic flashing across her features. "You didn't," she protested, her voice tinged with apprehension.

"I did," she confirmed, her expression unyielding. "And you know what? They didn't have a record of anyone named Quinn Fabray, either. They did, however, have someone named Lucy Fabray–Lucy Q. Fabray, to be exact."

And she looked like this." With a flourish, she produced her cell phone, displaying a photo of a younger Quinn, her features slightly different but still recognizable. "You can kind of see the resemblance if you look past the nose job and subtract, eh, 70 pounds."

"Stop, okay? That's me," she snapped, her past staring back at her. "My middle name is Quinn. I stopped going by Lucy because kids made up a mean nickname."

"Juicy Lucy?"

"Lucy Caboosey." she corrected bitterly, her voice laced with pain. "I hated the way I looked. I had zits. I was chubby. I felt terrible about myself. I didn't have any friends. Nobody would talk to me. I was the only kid at school who had to dissect their own frog because nobody would be my lab partner. And then I joined ballet, lost a little bit of weight, found out I was athletic, joined gymnastics, then cheerleading. Went on Proactiv for my acne. And when my dad got transferred and got a raise, I asked him if I could get a nose job. And he said yes. Then I asked them to call me Quinn."

"So you hate yourself."

"No, I love myself. And that's why I did all those things. I've been that girl, and I'm never going back. I was a miserable little girl. And now I'm going to be prom queen."

"Yeah. See, I wouldn't be so sure about that. You think everyone's going to vote for you because they want to be like you. Well, I don't know if they're going to want to be like you when they find out that you're a complete fraud."

"What are you going to do?"

"If I were you, I'd check the bulletin boards."

With a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, Quinn fled from the classroom, her heart racing as she encountered the stares and whispers of her peers. And there, plastered on the bulletin board for all to see, was the damning evidence of her past – a childhood photo of "Lucy Caboosey," a painful reminder of the girl she once was, and the secrets she had fought so hard to bury.


"We shouldn't be doing this," Isaac whispered against his girlfriend's lips, his voice barely audible tinged with a mixture of desire and had been quietly studying in her room when Quinn had burst in, practically launching herself into his lap, kissing him with a fervor that left him breathless.

"Shut up and kiss me," she breathed out, her words a command as she tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer. With her scent filling his senses, he happily obliged, his lips trailing along her neck, eliciting soft sighs and moans from her. He could feel the heat building between them, the undeniable arousal stirring in the pit of his stomach as Quinn rolled her hips, her movements only fueling his desire making him groan against her skin.

"Baby, wait," he rasped, his hands gently halting his girlfriend's eager hand as she reached for the elastic band of his sweatpants.

Quinn's impatience flared, her frustration evident in the way she tugged at the fabric, but he held firm, leaning away from her. "Quinn, stop," he said in a soft voice, his eyes searching hers with a mixture of concern and reluctance.

With her arms crossing over her chest, she regarded him with a raised eyebrow, "What?" she demanded, her tone edged with annoyance. "We were in the middle of something," she added, her gaze drifting pointedly to the evident bulge in his sweatpants.

"What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing," she snapped, her impatience flaring as she attempted to close the distance between them once more, but Isaac evaded her advances, rising from the bed and putting space between them.

"Are you being serious right now, Isaac?"

"Tell me what's wrong."

"Oh my fucking God, I already told you there's nothing wrong with me. Are you deaf or what?" Quinn exploded, her frustration boiling over as she scrambled out of bed, her movements sharp and erratic. With trembling hands, she gathered her scattered belongings, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she struggled to contain her rising anger. "I thought you wanted this. You're a guy, right?"

A hint of pain flickered across Isaac's features, his normally warm gaze clouded with confusion and hurt before he composed himself, his voice strained with emotion. "I don't know what's wrong with you, but if you just accused me of only using you for sex, you're very wrong." he responded, his words measured but tinged with underlying hurt.

"Why do you have to be so sentimental about everything? It's just sex!"

His expression hardened at her callous remark, a steely resolve settling over his features. With a gesture towards the door, he spoke in a low, controlled tone. "Leave, please. We'll talk when you're calmer," he requested, his voice firm as he gestured towards the door.

Quinn stared at him in disbelief, her chest heaving with emotion as she struggled to process his words. For a moment, the air between them crackled with tension and then with a glare that could cut through steel, she turned on her heel and stormed towards the door.

"Fuck you and fuck this too," she hissed over her shoulder, her words dripping with venom, before storming out of the room, the door slamming shut behind her.