Annie looked at them both, completely confused. Blaine and Kurt sat in silence, considering the implications. Blaine was the first to speak. "Apparently, we were in the same place, just not at the same time. Wes was a freshman when I was a senior. Every time the council did something he didn't agree with, and that was quite frequently, he would talk about how things would be different when he was in charge."

"Yeah, well, all he talked about when I was there was how great Blaine was, how if we had anyone who could sing like Blaine, who could dance like Blaine, with Blaine's charisma and charm and good looks, we would be unstoppable. I was only there for a few months, so I don't know if he did that for the whole three years after you graduated, but I know we were all pretty sick of hearing about this Blaine guy. I managed to avoid watching all Wes' videos. By the time I got there, everyone else had already been forced to sit through them twice and they warned me. Now I wish I'd seen them."

Oh my God! "Videos?"

"Of all your performances. And that's a singular 'you'. Not the Warblers. Just Blaine."

Kurt hated me before he ever met me. "I can image what you would have said when I met you at the airport if you'd seen the videos. This is really embarrassing, you know."

"Why? You didn't have anything to do with it. You were probably just nice to the poor little freshman and he developed a huge case of hero worship." Kurt grinned impishly. "Besides, now that I've met you, I have to admit he may have had a point."

What do I say to that? 'I'm glad you think so'? Yeah, right. "He was pretty unhappy when he first got there. He missed his family."

"And you took him under your Warbler wing, didn't you? 'Why am I not surprised?'"

Blaine and Annie shouted with laughter. "Kurt, did you just do Iago? I thought I was the one who liked princess movies!" Annie exclaimed.

"G-rated animated musical love stories? What's not to like?" joked Kurt. "I have to live up to the stereotype, don't I?"

"Hey, I resent that," objected Blaine. "I like Disney movies, too, and I feel absolutely no need to live up to any stereotypes whatsoever." I want to ask him why he was there and why he left, but I bet it had something to do with the bullying and I don't know if he wants Annie to know about that. Of course, he mentioned it in the interview and they used it on the show, so she knows something about it.

Before Blaine could make up his mind, Annie jumped in. "Kurt, you said you weren't there long. It sounds like a great place. Why did you leave?"

"Partly because I missed my friends, but mostly because I went there to run away from a problem. It seemed like a good idea at the time, but after a while I realized it was better to face it. While I was at Dalton, one of my friends took steps to make things better at my old school, to make the school safer for everyone, and that helped, too. Listen, I don't want to change the subject, and I know it's my fault we got sidetracked, but maybe we should go work on some music. Unlike us, Annie, Blaine actually has a life and this is his day off."

I can't think of anything I'd rather be doing. "We do need to practice, but I want to hear more about Wes later. We lost touch after I graduated. Should we try Christmas Wrapping?"

It had been a long, but productive, day. Rehearsal had gone well, and Kurt felt comfortable with both of the songs he would be performing. They had even taken time to run through several other carols, in case Sandy liked the sing-along idea. Kurt was lying in bed, wide awake, resisting the urge to toss and turn so he wouldn't disturb Marisol. Tomorrow morning the first challenge would be announced and the contest would begin. Kurt knew it would be better if he was well-rested, but he just couldn't force his mind to slow down and his body to relax.

"Kurt? Are you awake?" The whisper was so soft that Kurt wasn't positive he had heard it. He looked across to the other bed and realized that Marisol was propped up on one elbow.

Kurt sighed. "I can't sleep. You?"

"I can't sleep either. I'm just so wound up, thinking about tomorrow. My grandmother used to tell me to say an extra prayer and just let it go, but I tried that and it didn't work this time. I know I need to get to sleep and I can't and that's just making it worse."

"My dad always said that if I couldn't sleep, I should get out of bed for a little while. I'm going to fix us both some warm milk, and we can sit on the couch and talk." Kurt got out of bed and went into the kitchen. He got a pan and measured enough milk for two, thought a minute, doubled the amount, then put it on the stove to warm. He knew he could use the microwave instead, but it just tasted better when it was heated on the stove. He stirred it gently. By the time Marisol came in, wrapped in a robe that was obviously too large for her, wisps of steam were rising from the pan. Kurt added a little sugar and ½ teaspoon of vanilla and filled two mugs.

"Kurt, you made an awful lot. I don't think we can drink all that," Marisol said doubtfully.

"Just wait. It won't go to waste." He nodded smugly when the other bedroom door opened to reveal Jen and Annie, blinking owlishly in the light. "Come join us," he invited. "I made plenty." He filled two more mugs and set them on the counter. "Now, ladies, we're going to play a little game called 'What's the Worst That Could Happen?' Let's go sit in the living room."

When everyone was settled, Kurt continued explaining. "The object of this game is to recognize your unreasonable fears, and figure out what to do about your reasonable fears, so we can all get to sleep. Marisol, why don't you go first? What's the worst thing that could happen tomorrow? What are you afraid of?"

"Lane, my model, is absolutely gorgeous and she's a ballet dancer. What if I'm not sophisticated enough for her? What if she hates the clothes?"

"Okay, I think that's a reasonable fear," Kurt began, only to be interrupted by Annie and Jen's cries of protest. "No, it is reasonable," he continued when they stopped talking. "Lane might not like the clothes. We don't have any control over that. But would it really make any difference? She's not your customer; she's your model. It's her job to make your clothes look good on the runway. If she doesn't, then she looks bad. And what will happen if you get kicked off the show?"

Marisol suddenly smiled as she realized what Kurt was getting at. "Oh, if I'm out, then she is, too, so it's in her best interest to perform well and work with me, whether she likes the clothes or not. You're right Kurt! This really does help." She cautiously sipped her milk for the first time. "Oh, this is yummy! I've never had warm milk before. It always sounded sort of gross."

"Okay, me next," said Annie. "But first, I have to ask -- Marisol, is that Henri's robe?"

"Yes. He said when I wore it, he would be giving me a hug," she said shyly.

"That's so sweet," cooed Jen. "But please tell me he isn't wearing your peignoir."

"Even I wouldn't try to pull that off on a ship full of lonely sailors," laughed Kurt, "and I've worn Gaga with 10-inch glittered heels."

"My biggest fear is that I'll be in the middle of drafting a pattern for a sleeve or something and I won't be able to remember how to do it and I'll just die," Annie said dramatically.

"Okay, we have a reasonable fear and an unreasonable fear. Which is which?" Kurt coached her.

"I know I won't really die, so that's the unreasonable part. Now I have to figure out what will happen if the reasonable part comes true, right?" Kurt nodded happily at her. "I guess I'd walk away, take a break and collect my thoughts and try again. I'm the designer, so if that doesn't work, I shall change the design and do something else. No one would even know."

"And if you get flustered, just look at me. I'll start telling one of those stories you don't like to hear and you can yell 'Jen, TMI' and I'll pout and you'll laugh, and you'll feel better."

"You know, that might actually work. Thanks, Jen." She raised her mug in a mock toast. "What about you, Kurt? What are you worried about?"

"I'm worried that I might be kicked out on the first challenge and my dad will be disappointed in me."

The girls looked at each other for a moment before Marisol spoke. "I think that's a reasonable fear because it could happen, even though none of us think it's very likely. But, Kurt, hasn't this already happened to you? How did your dad feel when you didn't make the show in November?"

Kurt's gaze turned inward as he reviewed the events. "He was angry at first, but not at me, and he got over it after he talked to Heidi. He said he was proud of me for putting myself out there, that it wasn't winning that was important, that it was trying that was important. He reminded me that most people hadn't even made it to the second round, that I was in the top twenty out of all the people in the world. I know that's silly, because most of the people in the world didn't submit videos, but it made me feel better anyway."

"Can you think of anything you could do that would disappoint him?" Annie asked gently.

"He would be disappointed if I lied or cheated or was unkind or didn't do the best job I could. That makes it easy, doesn't it? I need to play nice and give it my best effort." He raised his shoulders, let out a deep sigh, and relaxed them. "I feel much better now. Okay, Jen. Your turn."

"I have nightmares about making a cutting mistake so bad that I don't have any fabric left and my model has to walk the runway with various portions of her anatomy hanging out."

"Me, too!" Marisol chimed in. "That's a big one!"

"What would you do if it happened to me, Jen?" Annie asked, leaning forward to place her hand on Jen's arm.

"I'd share any fabric I could with you -- oh!" She looked at Annie gratefully, tears welling in her eyes. "We've got each other's backs, right? That's what you're saying. Come here, you! I need a hug."

"I think we all do," Kurt said through the enormous yawn he was unable to suppress. "Group hug, then let's get some sleep." He collected the mugs, put the pan on to soak and followed Marisol into the bedroom.

Evidently the warm milk and conversation had helped Marisol; it wasn't long before her slow, even breathing told Kurt she was asleep. Kurt wasn't so lucky. He lay quietly, staring at the ceiling in the dark, thinking about the photo of the Warbler Council he had shared with Blaine. Blaine said he was a senior when Wes was a freshman. That would have been the '07-'08 school year. That makes him about 23 and this should be his first year out of college. He has a lot of responsibility for someone just out of college, but maybe he went to summer school or something and finished early, or maybe he doesn't have a degree. No I think if he went to Dalton, he would have finished college. There's definitely an inescapable college-prep mindset there. I could ask him. He said he doesn't mind if I pry. I wish we had been at Dalton at the same time. … This is ridiculous; I've got to get some sleep! He decided to play another game, one his mother had taught him. Let's see, do I want to do fruits and veggies, sewing terms -- no, not that. I'm trying to forget about sewing right now. I'll do an easy one: things that make me happy. A: avocados because they're good for the skin whether you eat them or apply them ... Allure ... Adele's new album. B: best friends, beautiful music, let's see, … B ... B ... B ... oh, Blaine! C: caterpillars … curls … He drifted off to sleep, still trying to think of another 'C' word.

Sleep was proving elusive for Blaine as well. He had always been proud of his accomplishments, although he was sure they were in large part due to his mother's dedication and not to any extra intelligence on his part, but he couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if he had followed the normal path and been at Dalton while Kurt was there. Is this an 'almost met', like Mom and Dad had? Is it a sign that we really are meant to be together?

His heart beat faster every time he thought about Kurt's words. 'I feel like I can tell you anything, like we have a connection ….' It didn't bother him at all that Kurt had effectively relegated him to the 'friend zone’ -- in fact it made things much easier, and he was confident that he could petition for rezoning when the time was right. As long as he could avoid the issue of sexuality without actually saying, or even implying, that he was straight, it should be fine. It will hurt his feelings if he thinks I've lied to him about it. He replayed the scene again. 'I feel like I can tell you anything, like we have a connection …' A connection … we're connected … He jumped out of bed and seized his song notebook. Quickly he scribbled down an additional verse.

It feels like we're connected
I can tell you anything.
Somehow you just 'get' me.
It makes me want to sing.

I guess that's why I'm still awake that verse wanted to be written. I'm not entirely happy with the last line, but it'll do for now. He got back into bed, turned off the lamp and fell asleep almost immediately.