With Kurt decided on Dalton and Edwards' show of support, Blaine launched himself into his work with even more passion. Thank goodness Kurt wasn't planning to board here—there would still be the safety of after-school hours, where the facades could drop. But there was a lot accomplish in the meantime so that as long as Kurt was here, Dalton would seem as real as any other school. And while most of the preparations including programming of one sort or another, like reusing some code from the "impromptu" performance from a while ago to nudge students to congregate a little more often (or in less routine ways) in the common areas of the school, some of the details that needed attention were more ordinary. Installing a lock on the laboratory door. Hiding some of the more Classified trash. Making sure the gates were open at certain hours of the day. To Blaine, the process of securing Dalton's secrets from the inside was a bit like spinning a sturdy yet oh-so-delicate web, one whose anchors could detach if the wind were strong enough—thus collapsing the structure.

Even more awkward was Blaine's realization, at the first Warbler's meeting with Kurt finally in attendance, that it wasn't Dalton that would have trouble seeming ordinary.

It was Kurt.

On his first day at the new school, Kurt looked surprisingly at ease. And happy. And dapper, Blaine thought, in his new Dalton blazer and tie. Blaine knew that no matter what happened, he'd made the right choice to bring him here. Now Kurt would be safe, too.

As for the Warblers, who were not surprised to learn that Kurt would join the group, well, their response to Kurt's arrival was very . . . uniform. They clapped to welcome him. They sat quietly as Blaine told the tale of Pavarotti. And as Wes spoke to Kurt about taking care of the bird, Blaine mouthed along, from his spot near the couch, the words he and Wes had decided on together the night before: "It's your job to take care of him, so he can live to carry the Warbler legacy. Protect him. That bird is your voice."

And then Kurt was Kurt, and Blaine laughed as his heart bloomed all over again, even as he watched the Warblers' deadpan reaction to Kurt's quip about working at a stray cat rescue . . . at the bottom of a coal mine. Even Sebastian was silent.

"Er, that was a joke," Kurt stammered at their lack of emotion. "I don't work at a coal mine."

Blaine's good humor turned to worry, though, once Kurt started sharing some of his ideas for sectionals. After he'd suggested that the set list for competition "should have a little more showbiz panache," Wes had responded (sort of coldly, Blaine thought) with a comment about how Kurt's enthusiasm would "come in handy one day" when he was sitting behind Wes's desk.

All Blaine could do was take out his notebook and start making lists. For while he'd planned endlessly to make Dalton as real as he could for Kurt, he'd forgotten to consider how Kurt would interact with Dalton. And if Kurt's experiences with the school and its inhabitants didn't feel right, or didn't make Kurt feel welcome, then everything would fall to pieces, Blaine thought. Or at the very least, everything involving Kurt. Which in Blaine's view, was more or less the same thing.

With Kurt's happiness foremost on his mind, Blaine skipped his last class (actually, his last few classes) that day so he could be sure to catch his friend before he left for Lima.

"Kurt!" he called out, as he spotted him about to descend the atrium stairs.

"Hey," Kurt said, a little unenthusiastically.

"Walk with me?" asked Blaine.

"Sure," Kurt smiled, as they took the steps together.

"I'm sorry your ideas got shot down like that today," Blaine began.

"Oh, it's fine," was Kurt's quick response. "It's just a different energy in there—something I'll have to get used to, that's all."

"It's been a long time since they've had anybody new—well, there's Sebastian. And actually, they made him audition and everything."

"Really?" Kurt said. "I wonder why they didn't ask me, too?"

Blaine held the door open for Kurt as both boys stepped outside into the late-autumn air. As they walked, Blaine commented, "I think maybe they just trusted my judgment?" The reality was simpler, Blaine knew: having one more actual human on the team would be good for them at sectionals. And besides, Blaine felt that something had shifted in Wes, once Sebastian had been accepted. Wes making Sebastian audition—and therefore pushing back against Blaine's wishes—had seemed to satisfy something in the Warbler, but Blaine didn't know what to make of it. Kurt stopped just then, and Blaine realized he'd missed the first part of his sentence.

"—being on a new team is a fresh start for me, and it would feel good to actually get a solo. At my old school it always felt like Mr. Schue was expecting Armageddon if Rachel didn't get all the solos."

Blaine tilted his head and smiled, and he felt in that moment that he would do anything for Kurt. Reaching out and grasping Kurt's elbow he said impulsively, "Well, it just so happens that we Warblers have a tradition of rewarding a student with a good attitude," he lied, "so we'd like to invite you to audition for a solo!"

He felt his heart warm as Kurt broke into a wide, hopeful grin.

As for the audition itself, things didn't exactly go as Blaine expected.

Wes and Blaine agreed beforehand that Nick and Jeff would be Kurt's "competition." Both boys picked and practiced songs from the sheet music Blaine had presented them with some time ago, when he'd worked on individualizing their musical tastes at Wes's behest. Wes and David both were insistent that the competition not have a predetermined result, but Blaine was so confident in Kurt's abilities, even though he'd never actually heard him sing (he was human after all, and he was an experienced member of a glee club also comprised of humans), that he didn't give the outcome a second thought.

He was, of course, wrong not to think things through.

The day of the audition both Nick and Jeff performed capably; Blaine, in fact, was proud at how well they did on their own, as separate from the team. But when Kurt belted out the first notes of Don't Cry for Me, Argentina, Blaine was immediately and powerfully drawn to Kurt's voice. It's clarity. It's crispness. It's range. As his eyes followed Kurt's movements, everything else in the room seemed to fade away. And even though the song was probably completely wrong for the Warblers, in his opinion, Blaine was nonetheless struck by the words:

I had to let it happen, I had to change

Couldn't stay all my life down at heel

Looking out the window, staying out of the sun.

So I chose freedom . . .

Blaine found himself fighting back tears suddenly, at Kurt's voice wrapping around the impassioned lyrics. It hit him again how different Kurt was, but maybe what hit him more, right at that moment, was the way Kurt could vocalize those feelings about escape. It was the thing Blaine tried to veer his own thoughts away from. As he fought to gain control of his emotions, a quick glance around the room told Blaine the others weren't registering what he was: they couldn't see or feel what he saw in the other boy.

Which was pretty much what they said once Kurt left the room. Blaine noted that Sebastian was the most vocal.

"I know Blaine wants to prop up his new boy toy," Sebastian said. "But I thought the goal—the mission, if that helps you better—is to win sectionals. This guy? And Evita? We're not going to win with show tunes. That's not," he paused for emphasis, "the Warbler Way."

The rest of the group murmured and shared quick glances with each other. Blaine was seated on the armrest of the sofa, mentally disconnected from the rest of the group. Boy toy? he thought. Wes's gavel hitting the desk top brought him back to the meeting.

Making eye contact with Blaine, Wes said carefully, "While it would be nice to give our newest member the spotlight, perhaps it would make sense to let him learn to be part of the team first? I think we're all in agreement here."

"Sure," Blaine said softly, crestfallen. He found himself having to explain to Kurt afterwards how he'd "fit in soon enough," all the while wondering about the new dynamics that seemed to be forming on the team.

When the morning of the sectional competition finally arrived, Blaine was a tangled mass of nerves. Thinking back to the day he'd registered the group for this opportunity, Blaine realized that most of the concerns he'd dwelled on had faded away. In fact the group's performance—not just as a show choir but as "humans"—had steadily improved. Aside from one practice where, after Blaine had demonstrated a more-complicated set of moves and the entire team (except Kurt) had replicated it immediately, identically, causing Kurt to wonder at their abilities, no red flags had been raised. And Sebastian, for his part, had been helpful in Blaine's opinion. He seemed to keep the group focused on winning, and Blaine often felt, as he saw Sebastian tweak a Warbler's choreography, that the boy was determined if not obsessed with the idea of it.

On the bus ride to the hosting school, Kurt seemed both nervous and subdued.

"You're awfully quiet," Blaine said, sitting next to him. "You okay?"

Kurt nodded and seemed to force a smile. "Of course," he said. "It's just going to be strange today, I guess, seeing my old friends perform without me."

"Well," said Blaine, smiling back and nudging Kurt's shoulder with his own, "maybe it won't seem that strange when we go up on the stage to claim that 1st Place trophy."

"You're right," Kurt replied. "That would make everything just about perfect." Then, craning his neck toward the front of the bus he added, changing the subject, "It's sure weird, though, that the headmaster's riding with us, don't you think? If Principal Figgins ever did that, I think I'd die."

Blaine laughed. "Oh, Headmaster Edwards isn't so bad," he said. "I'm kind of glad, actually, that he's here—you know, since we're not used to having a faculty supervisor or anything." Truth be told, Blaine was grateful that Edwards insisted on going. Surprised, but grateful; knowing Edwards would be around if anything out of the ordinary happened was very comforting. If we could just make it through today with no surprises, Blaine thought.

The bus pulled up to the curb of the hosting school to let everyone out, and as Kurt and Blaine waited for those seated in front of them to depart, Kurt pressed his hands up against the window and said, "There they are!"

Walking a distance away from the Warblers' bus was, apparently, the New Directions. Over their arms they carried garment bags, except for one boy in a wheelchair, who carried the garment bag in his lap while another student, a girl, pushed him. Toward the back of the group Blaine spied Mercedes, the one friend of Kurt's he'd actually met. Strangely, no one seemed to be laughing or even smiling. A cute blonde boy stole glances at the blonde girl he was walking with, and a shorter girl with long dark hair walked with her arms crossed in front of her while looking down at the ground.

"Are you sure that's them?" asked Blaine. "They don't seem very excited to be here."

"Well," began Kurt, a confused look on his face. "They don't really tell me anything anymore because we're competing, but before my solo audition I'd talked to Rachel—she's that one," he said, pointing. "The only thing I know is that she has no solos this time, which is really odd. But, you know, that's the New Directions for you. There's constant in-fighting and everyone's dating each other. It's basically a soap opera. It's The Worst Days of Our Lives," he deadpanned.

"Huh," said Blaine, trying to imagine what it would be like to be part of that brand of chaos.

They exited the bus and gathered with the rest of the group on the curb. Edwards looked at them all and said, "Ready, then?" And the group—with nothing to carry since they were already dressed in their Dalton uniforms—walked quietly and orderly into the school.

Inside, the teams were directed to their individual rehearsal spaces, and as the Warblers walked silently to their own room, they passed by the others'. The Hipsters were busy doing warmups, and behind the door after that Blaine could hear bickering coming from the New Directions. As they continued down the corridor Sebastian purred in his ear saying, "I know I should probably be sorry for them, but I'm not."

Blaine turned to look at the boy. "Sebastian," he said. "That's kind of rude. Don't you want the satisfaction of knowing we won when our competition is at its best?"

Sebastian smirked. "Satisfaction? Winning isn't about satisfaction. Winning allows you to keep winning. It allows you to . . . obtain things. To do more. To evolve. If they're not fit to win this thing, then what do I care?" he said.

"You should care," said Blaine, quietly, wishing he could program the boy to have some kind of empathy. Was that it? he thought. Was that what was different about him? The others could certainly read people's emotions—Blaine had seen Edwards do that to him often enough in recent days. Sebastian clearly could read others, too. But there was something different about how he used that knowledge, Blaine thought, then refocused himself on the task at hand as they entered the rehearsal room.

Blaine had the group go through warm up exercises, for Kurt's and his benefit more than for the others', since they didn't really need to prepare. Afterwards, they lingered in the room, not quite sure what to do with themselves when Kurt asked, "Do you guys not form a circle before competing? Do a pep talk? Um . . . tell a few jokes to lighten the mood? Anything?" He looked around the room, but the Warblers' faces were all blank. "O-kay," he said.

"Well," Blaine interjected. "This is actually our first competition, Kurt, so yeah, maybe we should do . . . something." He looked at Edwards then, who nodded at Blaine, stepped forward and said rather awkwardly, "Gather around, young men. Let's have a pep talk."

The Warblers formed a circle and swapped uncertain glances. Blaine watched Kurt, who looked expectantly at the headmaster.

Edwards cleared his throat.

"Warblers, today is a day to be proud of Dalton Academy," Edwards started, turning to meet Blaine's gaze. "To be here is a special thing. To be here in the world, among others, is a special thing. Regardless of the outcome, know that you've applied yourselves. You are . . . unique, and now we'll see the effect you have on others."

It was quiet in the room, except for Kurt, who leaned in close to Blaine and muttered, "He's really a serious guy, isn't he?" Blaine smiled and nodded back. Actually, Blaine was sure he'd never heard Edwards be so utterly emotional.

When Blaine finally stood on the stage with the Warblers and the curtain went up, he felt transported back to junior high, to the last time he got to perform in front of a truly live audience, and the electricity he felt running through his body at that was worth all of the work it had taken to get the group onto the stage in the first place. And the song he'd picked, the arrangement he'd crafted, all of it seemed perfect and fitting with Kurt at his side:

I knew when we collided

You're the one I have decided

Is one of my kind . . .

I can be myself now finally, in fact there's nothing I can't be.

The only surprise, it turned out, was that the Warblers wouldn't achieve a clear win. Instead, they would share a trophy with the New Directions of McKinley, who put together a great performance of their own that surprisingly, wasn't chaotic at all. In spite of whatever had happened behind the scenes, the group seemed to pull together and showcase the talent of their individual members (like that cute blonde boy whose name Blaine didn't know).

The tie didn't take away from Blaine's feeling of accomplishment. Seeing the trophy, the trophy he and the Warblers had won, made Blaine's heart swell. That he got to share the moment with Kurt made it all the more satisfying. As his own teammates cheered for themselves, Blaine peered across the stage at the New Directions, Kurt's old friends, with great curiosity.

What Blaine didn't notice was the way Sebastian wore a similar expression, directed right at him. Or how Wes noticed, or how a frown formed on Wes's face as he looked back and forth between the two.